


fanboy

by kozumekenmas



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: College AU, Exy, M/M, Reading, a smidgen of angst, andrew works at starbucks bc its what we deserve, friendship!, so much soft, still has exy but less!, used to be a fan girl au but now it’s ... not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-01 06:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21416500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kozumekenmas/pseuds/kozumekenmas
Summary: “You’re Andrew Minyard. You lock down the goal like no one else.”“There are so many responses to what you just said that I simply can’t choose just one.”-In which Neil Josten, a college freshman, forms a strange friendship (enemyship?) with his previous Exy idol.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 53
Kudos: 310





	1. 001

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is literally just a fic i began one day when i realized how much i would love to see neil gushing over andrew’s skills. it’s now way more than just that, but yeah!
> 
> (extremely loosely inspired by rainbow rowell’s ‘fangirl’)

Neil’s first thought, when he reaches the dorm, is,  _ these dorm rooms are fucking tiny _ . His second thought is,  _ this girl can’t be old enough for college _ .

The petite, pixie-like girl that came to greet Neil at the threshold is about Neil’s height, but that’s not what gives her the youthful air.

She has ice-blonde hair shot through with streaks of candy pastels, and practically no eyebrows. Her lack of prominent eyebrows is accentuated by the high bangs she has, and her short, colored bob is separated into two mini ponytails.

Neil spends a moment just staring at her.

“Hi,” she says slowly, stepping aside so Neil can cross into the room. “I’m Renee.”

“Thanks,” Neil says, in regards to her letting him through. “Are you helping someone move in, or…?”

“Nope,” Renee says, her expression good-natured. “This is my new dorm room. I assume you’re the roommate?”

“Yeah,” Neil says after a small pause. “I, uh, didn’t know there was such a thing as co-ed rooming.”

“There’s not, usually,” Renee shrugs. “My mom set this up. I’m a lesbian, and she’s very big on keeping me out of ‘trouble.’” Renee ends her statement with air quotes and a light giggle. Then, her dark eyes seek out Neil’s.

“Is that going to be a problem?” she asks, her tone light, but her expression testing.

“No, not at all,” Neil assures her quickly. “I was just wondering.”

Neil doesn’t mind having a female roommate, especially if she likes girls; Neil doesn’t really feel attraction on the same scale as others, he has realized over time, so maybe this will be a good thing.

“Oh,” Renee nods. “Well, I hope your move-in is smooth as mine was. I’m heading out now, actually, so you’ll have the space to yourself for a few hours.”

“Oh, okay,” Neil nods, somewhat grateful that he’ll be able to unpack his shit in peace.

“My friend is coming by to pick me up in a moment,” Renee tells him. “And, by the way, I don’t think you gave me your name.”

“Right,” Neil says, wondering how he forgot that, especially when Renee’d already introduced herself. “I’m Neil.”

“Nice to meet you, Neil.” Renee offered him a chipper smile, before waving and stepping out into the hallway, pulling on the strings of her pastel-pink hoodie.

Looking out the door behind her, Neil heard Renee speaking to someone standing at an angle he couldn’t see from the center of the room.

“Oh, hi, I was just about to go looking for you,” Renee says, smiling at someone. A disembodied voice replies, and for a moment, Neil is surprised by how deep and smooth it is. He kind of expected Renee to be meeting someone as high-pitched and pixie-like as herself.

“Yeah, yeah,” the voice says. “Let’s hit it.”

And then Renee and the voice are gone.

Neil turns on his heel and studies the dorm room; it’s not that bad. Small, sure, but hey, Neil is definitely not one to complain, not when there are actual beds and desks. He’s been in living accommodations where the bare minimum wasn’t even reached.

Setting down the one box he was carrying, Neil surveys the scene. He can tell his side of the room is to the right, which is fine with him. He hasn’t seen the left without Renee’s stuff, and now he can’t envision it sans the multitude of colors and knickknacks.

Neil thinks he recognizes a bible quote taped above Renee’s desk, but he avoids taking a closer look because he doesn’t want to snoop.

Instead, Neil picks his box up again and places it on top of his empty mattress. It’s a big box, sure, but it holds the bulk of Neil’s possessions that aren’t clothing.

Neil doesn’t have too much stuff.

Pulling out a set of worn gray sheets and bedding, Neil begins to dress the bed. It proves a bit more difficult than he’d considered, and when he’s done, Neil settles on the messily (but made!) mattress, and breathes a sigh of exhaustion.

Normally, Neil would be totally fine right now. He goes on walks and runs daily, and he’s an Exy maniac, the fastest player he knows. But in the days leading up to this move-in, Neil hasn’t exactly gotten as much sleep as he probably needs.

Sighing, he forces himself to get up, and pulls a flimsy plastic tub from his box. He bought it for nine dollars at Walmart, and he’d filled with energy bars stolen from Kevin. Neil can generally eat enough for ten armies, but the energy bars might prove useful for him in the future, if he doesn’t have time to grab a real meal before rushing off to class or practice.

Pulling his ancient flip-phone from his pocket, Neil idly pulls up Kevin’s number. After about a million rings, Kevin picks up, sounding annoyed.

“What d’you want, Josten?”

“Hi,” Neil says. “You have my duffel. I need it, please, pronto.”

“I don’t have your fucking bag, Neil,” Kevin snaps. The static clinging to his voice via the phone line makes Kevin’s normally-threatening tone laughable. Neil doesn’t let a snort escape, though, since he values his life.

“I think I left it in your car,” Neil admits.

“No shit,” Kevin replies, his patience worn thin at this point. “You can go get it, Neil.”

“I don’t have the keys, genius,” Neil tells him, his tone as light as ever. Kevin’s moods might’ve been scary to someone who hadn’t known Kevin for years, but Neil has no such pleasure.

“Fine, fuckweasel,” Kevin groans. “I’ll grab your fucking bag and get it to you over dinner. Okay?”

“Okay,” Neil replies, his tone pleasant. “Catch you later, Kev.”

“Don’t call me that—!” Kevin begins to complain. But alas, Kevin’s voice cuts off as the line goes dead.

Neil drops his flip-phone onto the bed, and stands up. He ambled over to the desk at the other end of his and Renee’s room, and surveys it. Both desks have identical cork boards hung over them, so Neil can only assume they’re university-issued.

Renee’s, he can see, is adorned with the maybe-bible quote, an organizing calendar with a white-and-pink color scheme, and a few Polaroid photos of blurry figures. Before Neil can stop himself, he’s crossing the room to study the images.

One features Renee and two girls—one tall, blonde, and classically gorgeous; the other is tall, too, but not quite as much as the prior. Her long, dark hair is secured in a thick braid, and all three of their smiles are blinding.

Another picture has Renee sitting on a patchwork quilt, smiling serenely as a baby rabbit sits in her lap. It’s cute, especially with the combined tiny-ness of Renee and the bunny.

The next picture, though, is the one Neil looks at the longest. The frame of the photo is more square, a hint that it was taken with a different Polaroid model. It shows Renee sitting in a rusty shopping cart, grinning and throwing up a peace sign. The cart’s handles are gripped by a boy, petite and dressed all in black. Though the picture is faded and blurry, Neil can tell the boy has icy-blonde hair. His face is obscured by his hand, classily flipping off the picture’s photographer, and Neil inexplicably wonders what his name is.

Neil feels an odd tug in his stomach, seeing all the photos as evidence of the camaraderie Renee has in her life. Friendship is something that Neil has not really had much experience with.

Stepping back from the cork board and letting his vision go blurry, Neil tries to take his mind off of…everything.

Trotting back to his own desk, Neil wonders what kind of things he’d like to put up on his cork board. Some clippings from Exy magazines, maybe…a photo of him and Kevin, if he can find one?

For a fleeting moment, Neil considers thumbtacking the one picture he has of his mother to the wall, but he immediately dismisses the ridiculous notion.

College is supposed to be the one place he can get  _ away _ from all that. Right?

“Right,” Neil whispers back to himself, needing the vocal reassurance.

He reaches under his bed and pulls out the plastic tub, opening it and selecting a blueberry energy bar. Sliding the tub carelessly back under his too-big navy blanket, Neil retreats to the desk, and pulls out the chair.

Unwrapping the energy bar, Neil lays his head onto the desk, giving in to his exhaustion. As he takes a bite of his bar, he wonders if Renee likes Exy. After his second bite, Neil can hardly keep his eyes open.

He hopes Renee will like  _ him _ .

And then Neil slips under the veil of sleep, letting his eyes fall shut, and his consciousness fall the million feet into dreamland.

-

It’s dark in the dorm room when Neil opens his eyes again. He’s barely feeling refreshed, which is not good after he’s just napped for over two hours. Neil goes to whip out his phone and check the time, but it’s not in his pocket where it usually stays.

Picking his head up—ew, half is face is flattened and wet from being pressed into a table and puddle of his own drool—Neil looks around the room.

Renee’s grid-patterned, widely aesthetic sheets are untouched, just as pristine as they were when she left earlier.

For just a moment, Neil wonders if she’s going to be spending the night with the faceless guy from earlier, but then he remembers that Renee is a lesbian. Still, that doesn’t rule out the possibility of her staying somewhere else.

Whatever the reason, Renee’s absence means that Neil can quickly get changed and maybe take a shower comfortably.

Thankfully, Neil has a single pair of backup pajamas hidden away in his large cardboard box, so he grabs those and a useless top sheet, and retreats to the dorm room’s connected bathroom.

Saying a silent thanks for Palmetto State’s lack of communal showers, Neil starts up the water and waves his hand in front of the stream until it reaches a scalding temperature—not enough to boil Neil alive, exactly how he likes it.

Stripping down, Neil throws his discarded clothing onto the tile floor that, despite being a rather sickening shade of yellow, was probably white at some point.

About one minute later, Neil runs his hands through his mop of auburn hair and realizes in near-horror that he’s forgotten to pick up toiletries for his dorm.

_ Fuck _ .

“God _ damn _ ,” Neil hisses aloud, and proceeds to nearly jump out of his skin when a soft voice outside the closed door says, “Excuse me?”

“Oh, shit, shit, sorry, is that you, Renee?” Neil asks, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the dull hiss of the shower.

“Yes! Sorry, I must’ve startled you,” Renee calls back. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Neil says, stifling a sigh. “I just forgot something, uh, kind if important.”

“Any chance I could find out what? I might be able to help,” Renee replies, her voice muffled by the door between them.

“Oh, thanks, it’s okay,” Neil says, feeling like an idiot. “I just, um, forgot to get toiletries and stuff. For the dorm.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Renee says breezily, continuing on before Neil can argue. “I’ve got a stock, my foster mom always buys too many ‘essentials.’”

Her sarcastic stressing of the last word is almost lost amidst the rushing water, but Neil catches it and smiles lightly. Who knew girls who loved pastels and bible quotes could be sarcastic?

“No, no, really, it’s okay,” Neil tries to assure her, but he can already hear Renee digging around through her belongings.

“Really, Neil,” she says. “I’ve got quite a lot. I can leave shampoo and soap inside the bathroom. I’ll close my eyes.”

That last part reminds Neil uncomfortably of the fact that he left the door closed but unlocked, since he’d figured Renee wouldn’t return until after he’d finished his shower. Even with Renee’s promise, he doesn’t like the thought of being vulnerable without at least a flimsy lock between him and the world.

_ Calm down, jackass _ , Neil tells himself.  _ It’s just a tiny bible girl. You can deal. Plus, you need those toiletries _ .

“Okay, um, thanks so much,” Neil calls back. “As long as it’s not a problem. I’ll compensate you for everything.”

“No need,” Renee replies. “Not a problem at all. I’ll just put the items inside and leave you to your shower.”

“Thanks again,” Neil says, feeling rather awkward as the door opens a tiny crack. He watches through a tiny slit in the shower curtain as Renee’s hands—decorated with an assortment of stitched friendship bracelets—line up three bottles on the tile.

Immediately, once the items are inside, she closes the door.

“No problem, Neil. Happy to help,” Neil hears her say, before they lapse back into silence.

It’s not a bad silence, though, since Neil is sure Renee’s gone back to whatever she was doing before. He tentatively sticks out an arm and grabs the first bottle: shampoo.

It’s by some French company that Neil has maybe seen in some drugstore add, or TV commercial. He flips it open, curious, and gives it a tentative sniff. It smells wonderful, and Neil is instantly very glad he accepted this from Renee.

Neil pours the lilac-colored substance into his palm and works it through his hair, wondering what the scent is. Some type of flower, he thinks. Possibly with an element of mint?

As Neil rinses it out again, he skims the description of the shampoo.  _ Lavender-scented with menthol _ , it reads. Neil makes a mental note to continue buying this lavender-and-menthol product.

Next, Neil uses Renee’s honey and rose water body soap, and almond and shea butter conditioner. Once he’s finished with his shower, Neil smells better than he’s sure he ever has in his life.

Wrapping his sheet around him to dry off, Neil swipes his hand across the fogged-up mirror, creating a stripe that he can see his reflection in. Staring back at him are his own icy-blue eyes, looking stark and bright against the drab background of the bathroom.

Neil slips into his sweats and hoodie from his previous Exy team, the Lions from Rowell Bay High School, and quickly runs his fingers through his hair in the hopes of getting it to dry faster.

Balling up his sheet-turned-towel, he slips on the fluffy Christmas socks he acquired at a drugstore a few years ago around the “happiest time of year.” Wintertime has never struck Neil as particularly joyous, considering the fact that it used to mean sleeping out in negative temperatures, a  _ real _ hassle for Neil during his time as a homeless person with his mother.

Still; the socks are comfortable and warm, so he wears them frequently.

Padding out into the room, Neil finds Renee stretched out on her bed, clicking away at an extremely thin laptop. It looks sleek and expensive and like Neil would probably break it just by looking at it wrong, so he averts his gaze.

Shoving his sheet-turned-towel back into the cardboard box, Neil stretches out on his own bed, and practically collapses. He then muffles a shrill,  _ “ow!” _ as he pulls his phone out from underneath him.

As he flips it open, he is greeted with a myriad of messages from none other but Kevin.

_ Hey Josten, call me back. We need to make plans for dinner. _

_ Josten? Hello? _

_ Neil, pick up, or I’ll gut you with my racquet. _

_ You’re worrying me, man. How am I supposed to know you didn’t get kidnapped by one of your father’s crazies? _

_ Hello. HELLO. Neil where the fuck are you?! _

_ Okay, I’m going to call the cops unless you pick up in the next ten minutes. _

_ NEIL. _

_ That’s it. I’m calling the cops. _

_ Okay, never mind, I won’t call the cops. But where are you?!?! I’m getting worried, Josten. _

Neil cringes as he scrolls through them. Kevin is being a little overbearing, yeah, but he’s coming from a good place. And it’s not like Neil’s never given him reason to have a heart attack.

Sighing, Neil presses the  _ “call” _ button and awaits the storm ahead.

Kevin picks up on the second ring.

“Neil Josten, you absolute  _ fucking _ asshole,” Kevin yelps from the other end. Given the staticky, whining connection, Kevin’s choice of volume is almost unbearable. Neil moves the phone a few inches away from his ear. He can still hear Kevin just fine.

“I honest-to-God thought you were dead in a ditch. Do you even  _ know _ how many times I called you? What the fuck were you doing that is more important than saving me from dying from a heart attack?”

Neil doesn’t even try to interrupt. He just waits until Kevin runs out of breath and gives him the inevitable opening.

“You know what? I can’t. I can’t even look at you right now. I’m covering up your face on my phone, Josten. I’m covering your profile picture. Because that’s how much your face disgusts me. How could you  _ possibly _ be so reckless as to ignore my calls? You better hope your phone was off or out of battery, and you better  _ hope _ your reason for ignoring me is a damn good one.”

Once Kevin’s got that out of his system, Neil waits a beat to see if he’s got anymore to say. When Kevin remains quiet, Neil takes that as his green light.

“Hello to you, too, Kevin,” he says, and that’s about all he can manage before Kevin spirals into yet another ranting fit.

“Hello?  _ Hello? _ Is that all you have to say for yourself, Neil? Not fucking funny. You are not  _ fucking funny. _ You are a menace. An absolute danger to society. I thought you were  _ dead _ , Neil, and all you have to say is  _ ‘hello’ _ ? Not good enough. Not fucking good enough, Neil.”

Kevin’s theatrics are a bit much, but Neil decides to indulge him, simply because he’s not in the mood for a dinner that consists of the rest of Neil’s blueberry energy bar.

“I’m sorry, Kevin,” Neil says simply, and waits.

“You’re sorry?” Kevin asks, sounding like he’s about to rip into Neil once more. Then, he seems to register the actual meaning of Neil’s words. “Oh, you’re sorry.”

“Yeah. I fell asleep, and then I took a shower, so I forgot to check my phone. I just got out.”

“I…oh. Okay. Fine. Well, don’t do it again. I was worried.” The seriousness in Kevin’s voice is honestly kind of touching. Neil feels bad that he worried him, but it’s kind of nice to know that the idea of Neil in danger is enough to get this reaction out of Kevin.

“I won’t. Sorry.” Neil realizes that he can see Renee, in his peripheral vision, looking curiously at him. Self-conscious, Neil settles back against his pillow.

“Can we still do dinner?” he asks.

“What? Oh. Yeah, sure. Uh, I’ll pick you up outside your building in ten,” Kevin replies.

“Okay. Cool. See you in ten,” Neil says, barely waiting for Kevin’s  _ “goodbye” _ before he shuts the phone. After a fair bit of rifling through his minimal luggage, Neil finds the phone’s charger, and plugs it into the wall.

Renee is still eyeing Neil’s cell phone with mild interest, and Neil wants to ask what she’s looking at, but he wonders if that would seem weird or rude. She’s probably wondering why he has such an old phone, Neil decides.

“Uh, hey, Renee,” Neil says, standing up. She acknowledges him with a nod. “I’m going to go have dinner with my friend. Um, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Alright, I’ll see you. Have fun,” Renee wishes him, raising her hand in goodbye.

“Thanks. You too,” Neil says, hoping she knows actually he means that she should have fun at home, rather than interpreting it as him simply repeating her words.

Neil glances at his laundry halfheartedly. The shirt is a goner, but the jeans can probably stand another wearing. Wherever Kevin plans on taking him, he’ll probably be better received in jeans than the sloppy sweats he’s currently wearing. But Neil is so tired.

Sighing, he grabs his jeans and trips to the bathroom to swap pants. Once he’s done, he comes back and jams his feet into his old high-tops.

“Bye,” he calls to Renee as he ventures into the hall. As soon as the door closes, Neil realizes that he doesn’t have a key to the room, but maybe he’s not supposed to?

Before he gets worked up, Neil trudges toward the steps, resolving to worry about it later.

-

When Neil walks out of the building, he immediately sees Kevin’s car. A nice-ish car, Neil assumes, but he doesn’t care enough to know the model or make.

Pulling open the passenger seat’s door, he hops in and greets Kevin with a salute. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Kevin nods to him, proceeding to pull out of the parking lot. “Your stuff’s in the back.”

“Thanks,” Neil replies. “I’ll get it when I come back.”

The duffel is pretty important, actually. It holds most of Neil’s clothing, along with a lot of his prized possessions (the high school newspaper from RBHS that called him the school’s most talented Exy player, the one photo of his mom he has left, three packs of cigarettes).

Kevin turns on the radio without a word, and automatically switches it to the oldies channel. Whip It by Devo fills the automobile, and it’s all Neil can do not to burst out laughing.

He clamps a hand over his mouth and shuts his eyes tight, and Kevin notices.

Scoffing, Kevin says, “Must you always mock my taste in music? C’mon, this stuff is classic. It’s  _ so _ classic. It’s fucking Devo, Josten.”

“Just because it’s ‘classic’,” Neil says, once he’s calmed down enough to speak clearly, “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t make me want to claw my eyes out.”

“Stop being dramatic.”

“Kev, you’re literally a forty year old man in a twenty year old’s body,” Neil points out, calm at last.

“Yeah, yeah, stuff it,” Kevin snaps, threatening to break Neil’s serenity and find himself saddled with a hysterically laughing teen for the second time.

They pull into the McDonald’s parking lot two minutes later, and Neil isn’t unimpressed with Kevin’s choice. Knowing Kevin—the world’s biggest Exy enthusiast—their dinner tonight should’ve been something healthy and low-fat.

But Kevin’s choice in crappy fast-food means he is trying his best to make Neil comfortable on his first night in college, which Neil finds kind of weirdly sweet.

They climb out of the car, and into the bright sanctuary of McDonald’s.

Sliding into an obnoxiously bright red-and-yellow booth, Neil rattles off his order to Kevin, making sure that Kevin knows the exact, albeit slightly ungodly, number of McNuggets Neil is ordering.

“You eat like a fucking maniac,” Kevin groans, selecting a simple burger and salad for himself.

“Dude,” Neil says, emphatic, “You can’t order a  _ salad _ at  _ McDonald’s _ . That’s just not how it works.”

“Fuck the system,” Kevin retorts blandly, getting up to order for the two of them. While Kevin’s away, Neil lets his gaze wander aimlessly around the room.

Most of the people dining there are college-age, which makes sense, given that this is primarily a college town. Neil takes idle stock of the people he sees: a girl with wavy chestnut hair and a bright smile, giggling to her seatmate, a tall redhead; a boy with pitch black hair and a startlingly pale complexion, giving him a gothy, malnourished look.

Who Neil is most hung up on, though, is a petite blonde boy, sitting alone in a booth next to a window. His head is down as he sips a McFlurry, and his vaguely unkempt, ice-blonde hair hangs in his eyes.

Neil recognizes this boy from somewhere, but his sleep-deprived state, he’s too exhausted to try and figure it out.

Sighing to himself, Neil tears his energy away from the mysterious blonde boy and turns his attention back to Kevin, who is returning to the table with two large styrofoam cups of soda.

Neil readily accepts his, and immediately takes a contemplative sip from the mustard-colored straw.

He wonders, knowing that he’s being annoyingly Pinterest-board-novel, what the year ahead of him will hold.


	2. 002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neil josten knows weird amounts of information about andrew minyard. why? because EXY!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m not betaed, sorry for any/all mistakes and inconsistencies.

Neil has Differential Equations first thing on Tuesday, and when he wakes up, he’s surprised to feel the slightest twinge of nerves for his very first day at college.

Renee has already showered and is dressed, today in a cropped shirt of a light green color, and jeans that are tall and baggy, but not in a necessarily bad way. Her short hair is down today.

She’s tying the laces to her boots, which are light lavender purple, when Neil slides out of bed.

“Good morning, Neil,” Renee offers with a smile. Neil returns it, a bit forced and lopsided, but even though his cheer is fake, Neil’s reaction to Renee’s greeting is real.

It’s nice to hear someone say something nice like that to him once in a while.

“You, too,” he replies, raking fingers through his curly hair, which is still smooth and good-smelling from the previous night’s shower. “Where are you off to?”

“I’m getting breakfast with my friends Danielle and Allison. You’re welcome to join, if you like,” Renee offers him brightly.

Neil doesn’t want to impose, though, so he shakes his head. “No, that’s alright. I have a class pretty soon, I’ll just grab an energy bar and head on my way.”

“Alright, Neil,” Renee nods, peaceful as ever. Neil’s starting to notice that she seems to be serene most of the time, which isn’t a bad quality for a roommate. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“See you, Renee,” Neil says, waving at her as she exits the room.

After she’s gone, Neil remembers that he forgot to ask about the key to the room. She’d let him in when he knocked last night, so he’d promptly forgotten about that issue. For a moment, Neil considers running after her and flagging her down for a moment before she heads off, but he doesn’t want to bother her.

He supposes he can deal with it when the time comes.

After Neil’s changed—today in a t-shirt so faded the logo that once adorned it is no longer identifiable, and the previously-bright color of the fabric is reduced to a muted gray—he pulls his sneakers on again, grabs the drawstring bag he’s kept tucked inside his duffel, and a chocolate-chip energy bar, and heads on his way.

_ The chocolate chip flavor _ , Neil muses as he eats his bar,  _ is not as good as the blueberry. _

Finding his way to the math building, Neil slips into the Differential Equations room just as the professor is introducing himself. Finding a seat near the back, Neil extracts an old green notebook from his bag, as well as a chewed-up pencil.

He accepts one of the syllabi the professor is passing out, and skims it as Prof. Johnson outlines to the class what is to be expected of them throughout the year. Neil lets the words go in one ear and out the other as his mind wanders.

Glancing at his hands, Neil notices a stripe of thin pink scar tissue. He remembers this; it was a scar borne from getting jabbed in the hand too hard with his friend Jason’s racquet. Thinking of it makes Neil miss Exy like hell.

It’s his true love.

Is there any way he could…? No, college teams aren’t like high school ones. You’re recruited, not tried out, especially with teams like the Foxes, well-known within all the Exy circles.

And there’s obviously a reason why Neil  _ wasn’t. _ Recruited, that is.

Still, Neil can easily imagine how amazing it would be to play Exy for Palmetto State. A lot of his favorite players are on the team—one in particular, who Neil’s idolized forever—and Kevin’s joining this year, too.

Neil is  _ very _ jealous of Kevin’s recruitment, deep down, but he supposes that Kevin was the obvious choice. Even though they’re from different schools, Kevin and Neil are both from Rowell Bay, and Kevin’s just  _ better. _ It makes sense that he was chosen.

Sighing, Neil signs his name at the end of the syllabus.

“I’d like to go around the room and have you all say your names, and  _ one _ interesting thing about you,” Prof. Johnson says, sitting on his desk aimlessly. Neil grimaces inwardly; he doesn’t have anything interesting to tell, anything that wouldn’t put him in imminent trouble with the FBI. “Let’s start with you.” Johnson points to a curly-haired brunette girl who Neil recognizes. He stares at her, trying to place her chestnut waves and bright blue eyes.

The girl clearly notices Neil’s stare and shoots him a grin.

“Hi, I’m Marissa,” she says, doing a little finger wave as she smiles to the class. “Um, I’m on the cheer squad—a Vixen.”

Someone lets out a wolf-whistle, and Neil glares around the room, trying to find the ass who did that. He doesn’t find anyone, though, so he sinks back into his seat.

As the name game is passed on to a tall man in a Stranger Things hoodie, Neil zones out again, staring out the window. The PSU campus is nice, and Neil can see right into the pretty courtyard from the classroom. He blanks out for a while until his haze is broken by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Neil turns his head and sees the entire class looking at him. “Oh,” Neil says. It’s clearly his turn to speak, so he begins with, “Uh, I’m Neil. Neil Josten.”

“Glad to see you’re on this astral plane, Neil Josten,” Prof. Johnson says, looking amused. “One interesting fact?”

“Um. I play Exy?” Neil tries.

“Oh, come on, so many sports facts. How about something  _ profound _ ?” Johnson suggests, looking mildly pissed.

Neil shrugs. “That’s all I have that’s interesting. Isn’t this a math class?”

“A math class it is, indeed,” Johnson sighs. “And Exy it is, too, Neil Josten.  _ Next. _ ”

-

After Differential Equations  _ and _ Linear Algebra, Neil’s drawstring bag is stacked with a pair of thick syllabi, and his eyes are tired. His dinner excursion with Kevin had taken much longer than they’d anticipated, since they’d veered off track to have a spur-of-the-moment Exy practice.

That means that Neil hasn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, sleep-wise, when it comes to the new school year.

His new plan, though, is to head back to his dorm, finish off the chocolate-chip bar he’d discarded halfway through earlier, and take a nice, long nap.

When Neil reaches his floor of Fox Hall dorm, though, all thoughts of relaxation are driven from his head by the intense thump of obscenely loud bass and drums, coming from the general direction of his dorm room.

Wondering what the  _ fuck _ Renee is doing, Neil knocks on the room’s door.

The music cuts abruptly off, and from inside the dorm, a deep, raspy voice asks, “Who’s here, Renee?”

“I don’t know. Neil, probably.”

“If it were your roommate, wouldn’t he have a key?”

Neil’s question exactly, but right now, he’s too busy wondering who Renee’s got holed up in their room.

Neil doesn’t have time to eavesdrop on the rest of their conversation, though, because the door swings open to reveal Renee, waving at him.

“Hi,” Neil says.

“Hi, Neil,” Renee replies, calm. “My friend is here, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s okay,” Neil lies. He’s definitely not going to be able to sleep with someone else in the room, but whatever. Maybe he can read a book, or something.

As Neil steps into the room, the first thing he notices is a boy sitting at his desk chair. The boy is turned away from him, but his ice-blonde hair is familiar, and when he turns his head to look at Neil…

“Oh my God,” Neil says, his jaw dropping practically to the floor.

The boy raises an eyebrow, but Neil doesn’t even care about the cold condescension on his face. It’s a face he knows all too well, from the heavy-lidded brown eyes to his apathetic pout. “You’re Andrew Minyard. You lock down the goal like no one else.”

“There are so many responses to what you just said that I simply can’t choose just one.”

Renee studies the two of them with interest. “You know each other?”

“No,” Andrew says, at the same moment Neil bursts out, “ _ Yes _ .”

“Huh.”

“Well, we don’t know  _ each other. _ I know Andrew. He’s the star player on the Foxes. I’ve been following his career since he was recruited,” Neil gushes, his blue eyes wide.

Andrew snorts. “Not creepy at all.”

“It’s college sports. Every Exy fan knows you’re a good goalie,” Neil points out. He can’t believe it. Andrew Minyard, in his dorm.

Suddenly, Memories from McDonald’s the previous night flood Neil’s mind.

“Hey, were you at McDonald’s last night?” asks Neil, taking in the faint curl of Andrew’s glacial hair and the circles beneath his dark eyes.

Andrew stares at him, looking like he’s debating whether or not to rip Neil’s head off right here and now. “Now  _ that _ is creepy. How the fuck do you know that?”

“I was there,” Neil said. “I’m not stalking you, I promise. I went for dinner with my friend, and I saw you there and recognized you, but I didn’t know where from.”

“What a coincidence,” Renee remarks, leaning against the closed door.

“A coincidence, indeed,” Andrew huffs, folding his arms over his t-shirt. His arms are encased in black armbands, blending in with the dark fabric of his shirt, and Neil wonders if they’re there to be a fashion statement, or if Andrew’s hiding something.

Neil can relate to the latter.

“Don’t look at me like that, dude,” Neil tells Andrew. “This is  _ my _ dorm room, too.”

“The whole prospect of  _ owning _ a dorm room is ludacris,” Andrew says, waving an arm dismissively. “It belongs to the school. Not you.”

“Whatever,” Neil shrugs. “Not the point.”

“It doesn’t seem like you even  _ have _ a point,” Andrew hisses, leaning towards Neil in a way that makes him look like he was looming over the other boy—despite the fact that really, Andrew is maybe four inches shorter than Neil.

“Alright, guys, let’s calm down,” Renee says, reaching between them, and lightly flicking her fingers towards Andrew to indicate that he should step back.

He does, begrudgingly.

“So, Neil,” Renee says, turning to him. Neil tears his gaze away from Andrew’s eyes with some effort, and when he looks at Renee, she looks vaguely amused.

“Yeah?”

“You like Exy, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s my favorite thing,” Neil admits. In truth, he’s kind of upset that he wasn’t recruited to play for any colleges in his area. He was one of the best players on his high school team… if fucking  _ Brendan Greene _ got asked to play Exy for a team, why hadn’t Neil?

“Cool,” Renee smiles. “Obviously, you know about Andrew, but he and I are both going to be playing for the Foxes this year.”

“Wait, you  _ are _ ?” Neil asks, surprised. He’s been checking the college Exy rosters lately, and he hasn’t seen anything about any Renees joining the Foxes.

“Yes,” Renee replies. “I met with Coach Wymack last week to discuss my tryout, and show him some of my work. I’m on the team now, and so are many of my friends.”

“I thought you had to be asked to join?” Neil says, bewildered.

Andrew snorts. “Keep up, Neil. Things are different with the Foxes. You can ask to be tried out if you want to join and weren’t selected.”

“ _ What? _ ” Neil demands, shocked. “ _ I _ didn’t know that!”

“Clearly,” Andrew huffs, crossing his arms. “Oh, but don’t tell me you’ll be asking for a tryout? We’ve already got a full house of idiots on the team.”

“Hey, my friend’s on the team,” Neil says, protective of Kevin.

“Who?” asks Andrew, eyebrows raised. “Wait, no, don’t tell me. Boyd?”

“You mean Matt Boyd? No, but he’s awesome. Never met him. Kevin Day—he’s my, uh, my best friend,” Neil blurts. Andrew’s other eyebrow comes up, his expression unfiltered surprise, which Neil finds himself enjoying. All the times he’s seen Andrew, even during televised press events, he’s always been calm and collected. This is different.

But it’s fleeting. Andrew’s expression reverts right back to controlled blankness in the blink of an eye. But still. Neil  _ saw _ it.

“Kevin Day?” Andrew asks.

“Yeah,” Neil says, feeling a hum of pride. Kevin Day, Exy superstar, Neil’s best friend. “You know him?”

“Of course I know him,” Andrew says. “We’re on the same team, numbskull.”

“Andrew,” Renee says, a warning, but just barely. It’s just a feeling he gets, but Neil is pretty sure that if it came down to it, Renee probably wouldn’t step between Andrew and a fight.

“Anyway…I didn’t know I could try out for the Exy team,” Neil reiterates from before, still floored by the idea.

“God,” Andrew huffs, crossing his arms again, and for the second time, Neil’s gaze is drawn to his armbands.

“Uh…where would I go to try out, Renee?” Neil asks, turning to her.

“Coach Wymack’s office, the court,” she says. “I’ll show you on the map.”

“There’s a map?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you get one?” Renee asks, looking surprised.

“No,” Neil replies, wondering how many things he missed at the secret orientation he must’ve not heard about.

“Oh…right,” Renee says, pulling open a drawer in her school-issued nightstand. “Someone stopped by to give them out, and I was supposed to give you yours…I guess I forgot.”

Neil could probably be pissed right now, but Renee is so wispy-looking and fairylike that he actually believes that she forgot to tell him.

He accepts the map from Renee, and also a little orientation pamphlet thingy that he finds, flipping through it, mostly talks about how great Palmetto State is.

“Thanks,” he tells Renee, who smiles back at him.

From the corner of the room, Andrew clears his throat in that way people do when they want the room’s attention back on them. Neil and Renee turn to him, expectantly.

“Can we go?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Renee says, grabbing a marker out of the glass jar on her desk. It’s purple. She circles the court-slash-Coach Wymack’s office, and tucks the marker behind her ear.

“There you go. If I were you, I’d probably go see him soon, since the season’s coming up,” Renee explains.

“Okay, great, thanks,” Neil says, nodding. He can’t believe this; Exy is his one true love. And he might have just been handed a chance to play it,  _ on a team. _

“Sure,” she says. Andrew taps his foot, holding the door open. She flicks her fingers as if to tell him to leave, and takes his place right outside the door, using her foot to prop it open.

“By the way, Neil,” she says, and Neil turns to look at her. “I hope you make it.”

He manages a nod, and she disappears.

Even as Neil collapses into his bed, fully clothed, Renee’s words are playing in his head.

_ I hope you make it. _

Neil falls asleep, and dreams of pastel-haired fairies with magical maps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was short, i’m sorry!!! things’ll probably start to pick up soon. also i literally know fuckall about college life and sports so if there’s anything weird here just assume that psu is ~quirky~ in this au.


	3. 003

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> appreciable content: neil <3s taylor swift, marissa makes an entrance, and kevin day has his moment as an exy-obsessed prick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed (we die like men) & worked on between the sixty thousand exams i had this week. my apologies for any/all mistakes or inconsistencies or unintentional divergences from canon!

“Again, Josten, with  _ feeling _ ,” Kevin commands from the other end of the court. Neil shoots him a glare.

“Funny,” Neil says, hefting his borrowed racquet, and blowing wayward strands of auburn hair out of his eyes.

“I’m serious. Put your back into it,” Kevin instructs from where he stands, leaning all casually against his own racquet. (Not borrowed.)

“I don’t see why I need to practice,” Neil says, even though he really does. “I’m good. Everyone knows it.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that why you were recruited? Again, Neil,” Kevin says. Kevin’s a tough guy to please, and the rudest coach Neil’s ever had to deal with, but he’s good.

And good is what Neil needs, if he plans on making this team.

Now that the tryout is an option, it’s one that Neil  _ needs _ to put his best into. Now that he’s aware of the possibility of college with Exy, he knows that he can’t possibly live without it.

“Whatever,” Neil says, and pushes his fingers through his hair. He’ll play til his bones are sore if it means he can join the Foxes.

-

“Hey, your name’s Neil, right?” asks a girl, standing above Neil’s desk. Slowly, he looks up, and recognizes her—she’s the curly-haired brunette.

“Yeah,” Neil says, nodding at her.

“I’m Marissa,” she says brightly, tucking the shorter front bits of her hair behind her ears. She has a row of piercings, all the way from the bottom of her ear to the top. It’s pretty cool, Neil thinks.

“Oh, you’re on the cheer team,” Neil nods, remembering her ‘interesting fact’ from the first day of Differential Equations, a week ago.

“That’s me! A Vixen, tried and true,” Marissa smiles. She’s very smiley, it seems, but she has straight white teeth, so it’s not a bad thing, necessarily. Neil notices that her lips are pink and shiny, and as soon as he does, he notices that she’s noticing him as he notices.

_ It’s a day for noticing. _

“Cool,” Neil says. “Do you guys cheer at Exy games and stuff?” He’s trying to be polite; truthfully, he doesn’t care all that much about this Marissa girl, but if he could make some friends…

“Yeah! We cheer at all the games, really,” Marissa tells him, her voice full of what seems like genuine enthusiasm. It reminds Neil of how he used to talk about Exy—full of energy and affection for the sport.

“That’s really cool,” Neil repeats, for lack of anything better to say.

“Thanks! I really love it,” Marissa tells him, leaning the heel of her hand on his desk. “I was on the team in high school, and I came here on a cheer scholarship.”

“Cheer scholarships are a thing?” Neil asks, genuinely surprised. He thought scholarships were only for, like,  _ actual _ sports.

“Of course they are,” Marissa says, sounding a bit defensive. “Cheer is a sport. It’s legitimate and really difficult. It takes a lot of practice and skill, just like Exy.”

“Yeah, no, of course it is,” Neil says, shaking his head, and feeling like a douchebag. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply it wasn’t.”

Marissa’s smile reappears. “It’s okay, it happens a lot. But you’re one of the good ones, I see.” She winks. “Hey, listen, here’s my number—” she presses a piece of paper onto the tabletop—“Give me a call.”

With that, Marissa turns on the heel of her Ugg boots and disappears into the crowd of dawdling math students.

Neil stares down, bewildered, at the piece of scrap paper on his desk. Marissa’s number is written in red pen, the color of her sweater. Her handwriting is messy, something that Neil maybe wouldn’t have expected from a girl who looks… like her.

Neil swallows. He looks back up at Marissa, where she’s talking to a tall guy in a t-shirt for some anime Neil doesn’t recognize, and a petite girl with teal-and-purple dreads. Neil’s eyes dart back to Marissa, who’s laughing at something the guy said.

Neil looks back at the paper and slips it into his jeans pocket.

_ Give me a call. _

Even though it goes against everything Neil’s mother taught him…maybe he will.

-

This time, when Neil sees Andrew Minyard, he’s looking for somewhere to eat lunch.

Neil’s head is still swimming with his strange encounter after Differential Equations, and it doesn’t help that the cashier at CVS seemed to be ( _ maybe? _ ) flirting with him.

Is Neil, like, randomly really attractive today?

He doubts it.

Right now, all he needs is a place to eat his lunch in peace and  _ not be flirted with by anyone _ , despite the fact that his ‘lunch’ is the admittedly dubious bag of off-brand BBQ chips and the can of Coke he bought at CVS.

So, when he sits down at a picnic bench, it’s just his luck that as soon as he sets down his items, they’re shaken by someone slamming their arms down on the tabletop.

Neil looks up, and into the dark eyes of Andrew Minyard.

“Oh,” he says simply.

“Oh, indeed,” Andrew growls. “Move. This is my table.”

“I don’t see your name on it,” Neil ventures, opening his can of Coke, and taking a sip.

Andrew stares him down, but Neil, having been stared down many times before in his life, does not budge.

“I’m meeting someone here in two minutes,” Andrew says. “You’re going to move.”

“Or what?” Neil asks, feeling every bit of his inner childish leak out into the statement. It doesn’t matter, though; Andrew looks incensed.

“Or I fucking make you, Neil,” Andrew hisses.

For a second, an incoherent thought regarding Neil’s wonderings about  _ how _ Andrew could make Neil leave swims to the top of Neil’s consciousness, but just as soon as it arrives, it’s gone.

“I’m eating lunch,” Neil says, staring Andrew straight in his eyes. “And I’m not going to move. So you’d better find somewhere else to have your meeting.”

“You’re fucking childish,” Andrew snarls, but before he can say anymore, someone jogs up behind him, dark curls flopping in his eyes.

“Hey, Andrew! Ooh, who’s the cutie?” asks the peppy, cheer-filled voice of the tall guy who slides onto the bench across from Neil.

“He’s not a cute guy,” Andrew hisses, “and he was  _ just _ leaving.”

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind,” Neil replies innocently, folding his arms. “I think I’ll stay and meet your friends, Andrew.”

“ _ Friends? _ Dude—we’re  _ cousins _ ,” says the guy, using one hand to push his hair out of his eyes and the other to flash Neil a finger-gun.

“Really?” Neil asks. They certainly don’t look like cousins. The new guy has dark skin and hair, starkly different from Andrew’s icy locks and pale complexion. Also, when the new guy was standing, he was a good head (or two!) taller than Andrew.

“Yeah! Didn’t he tell you? I’m Nicky!” Even the tone of voice Andrew’s cousin uses is completely different than his own.

_ Nicky. _ Neil mulls it over. It seems like it fits him. “I’m Neil,” Neil replies.

“Neil!  _ Neil. _ Huh, I like it,” Nicky says, nodding. “How do you know Andrew?”

“Well, I walked into my dorm room, and he was there,” Neil explains.

Andrew fixes him with a bland, albeit sharp, glare, still standing next to Nicky.

“Wait, why?” Nicky asks, looking between Neil and Andrew, bewildered.

“He was there to see my roommate, Renee,” Neil explains. Before he can continue, Nicky is interrupting him, dark eyes wide.

“Oh my  _ god _ , you’re  _ Renee’s _ roommate? Lucky you! Renee is a fucking babe,” Nicky says. “I mean, she’s a lesbian, and I’m gay, but a babe all the same. I love her. Do you love her?”

Blushing despite himself, Neil nods slowly. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Good. Treat her well,” Nicky says, staring Neil down for a half-second before his expression morphs back into cheerfulness.

“I plan on it,” Neil replies. He doesn’t know what to make of Nicky just yet.

“This is ridiculous,” Andrew snarls, glaring at Neil with fervor. Neil almost wants to see what he’ll do if baited further, but he’s not sure that that idea is in his best interest.

“Okay,” Neil tells Andrew with a nod. “I’m going to get going, I’ve got Linear Algebra.”

“A math major?” Andrew asks, distaste written all over his features.

“Yeah,” Neil replies, crossing his arms. “Got a problem?”

“Yes,” Andrew says simply. “Math is repulsive.”

“Look who’s talking,” Neil replies, before grabbing his Coke, leaving the chips, and stalking off, ignoring Nicky’s hollered  _ goodbye. _ Neil knows that it was a last-ditch attempt at an insult that would stick, but he’s still surprised that he called Andrew repulsive.

Neil doesn’t know much, but he knows that that is definitely not the right word to describe Andrew.

_ Definitely. _

But then Neil’s confused as to why he stressed that word in his head, so he shakes it off and hurries off to class.

-

Taylor Swift’s  _ Love Story _ is playing through Neil’s earbuds, and his notes are splayed out on the desk before him. The song choice is one of Neil’s guilty pleasures, a favorite he’d never admit, and the notes are there for the off chance that Neil manages to fight off his inherent talent for procrastination.

Given the way things are going, it doesn’t seem at all likely.

The dorm room’s door swings open, then, and Neil looks up gratefully from his notes, expecting to see Renee smiling cheerfully from the doorway.

But, no. Instead, it’s Andrew Minyard, dressed head-to-toe in black, and glaring at Neil.

“How did you get in?” Neil asks, prying one earbud from his ear.

Andrew nods down to the key in his hand.

“What the fuck,” Neil says. “How do  _ you _ have a key, and  _ I _ don’t?”

“Not my problem,” Andrew shrugs, walking into the room. “Is she around?” he asks after a moment, and despite his annoyance, Neil shakes his head no.

Wordlessly, Andrew sits down on Renee’s bed and produces a cigarette from the pack Neil can see in his jeans pocket.

Andrew leans towards the open window and lights it with an all-black lighter he also took out of thin air.

For a moment, Neil ponders the benefits of telling Andrew not to smoke in his dorm, and squashes the thought. He doesn’t mind it much, and Andrew  _ is _ keeping it by the window.

Neil clicks off Taylor Swift and surreptitiously closes his notes, before turning his head to look at Andrew.

This angle… is definitely doing some favors for Andrew. The window is lighting his silhouette up from the back, making his hair look gauzy, and giving him the glowing outline usually reserved for angelic characters in comic books.

Neil tilts his head to the side, studying the interesting picture that is Andrew Minyard, and the man himself chooses  _ that _ moment to turn back to Neil.

“You’re staring,” Andrew says simply, and Neil scoffs.

“ _ You’re _ intruding on my dorm room,” Neil shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. Andrew raises an eyebrow.

“Haven’t we been over this?”

“I don’t know what your problem is with my temporary co-ownership over this room, but it’s really annoying,” Neil says, fixing Andrew with the best glare he can muster.

“You are a five-year-old about to pitch a tantrum, and I don’t have the energy for it at the moment,” Andrew replies blandly, standing up and snuffing out his cigarette on the room’s windowsill.

“That’s my  _ windowsill _ ,” Neil protests, but the deed is already done, and Andrew shows zero signs of remorse.

“Until next time,” Andrew tells Neil from the doorway, offering him a salute. “I would pray for there to be no next time, but god isn’t real.”

“Hey,  _ wait _ , I want something from you,” Neil says, as Andrew turns the doorknob. Andrew turns and gives him a  _ look _ , as if to calmly ask,  _ what the fuck is your problem? _

“The key,” says Neil, though the key is now nowhere to be seen.

“Tough,” Andrew shrugs. “It’s mine.”

“Oh, so ownership is fine, as long as it’s yours? Technically, this is the  _ dorm’s _ key,” Neil argues.

“No, it’s mine, since it was made specifically for me,” Andrew says, flinging the door open, and stepping past the threshold. “I wish you a bad day.”

And then he’s gone.

Neil presses the heel of his hand to his forehead, and wonders what he did to deserve this. He regrets ever completely freaking out over Andrew Minyard’s extremely terrific goalkeeping.

Neil puts his earbuds back in, and presses  _ play _ on Love Story. The song is at the part when Taylor belts out “scarlet letter”, so Neil allows himself a moment to appreciate Taylor Swift’s amazingness.

He needs someone new to fanboy over, since Andrew is  _ absolutely not an option _ anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know, man, i really dont! umm i know this isnt quite fangirl-ish yet, but we are GETTING there, yall!
> 
> also, fair warning, i cannot and will not villainize marissa, so if you hate her than sucks for you bc homegirl will have her part to play in all this! not as neils gf obviously but still :)


	4. 004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a tentative neil josten drafts an utterly casual text to cute girl marissa; the foxes (most of them) are introduced; olivia newton-john’s ‘physical’ is sung along to; neil & the gang go to sweetie’s!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbetaed (we die like men) as usual, so i apologize for mistakes/inconsistencies, as well as any unintentional divergences from canon! no trigger warnings for this chapter, other than like a wee bit of sexual humor?

Neil ends up waiting three days before texting Marissa.

Despite seeing her in class (after seeing her in two of his math-centric classes, Neil has reduced that Marissa is  _ some _ sort of math major), he’s partially forgotten about the little paper in his desk, scrawled with ten digits.

_ Partially _ forgotten.

The other part of Neil has wondered continuously about Marissa. She seems like the stereotypical cheerleader from a movie, Neil can see at least that, even with his own hatred for cliché films. But still—he remembers her defending cheerleading, her pretty features melting into defensive annoyance.

_ That’s _ certainly not something Neil has seen in generic movies.

And anyway, it’s been a long time since Neil has been attracted to anyone, but he thinks that Marissa is pretty. And she seems interested in him—why else would she have gone up to Neil and given him her number?

So, when Neil’s busy with neither studies nor Kevin’s incessant Exy-related whinging, he picks up his phone, types in the number, and writes a simple text.

_ Hi, this is Neil from Diff Equations _

He sends it, and closes his phone, wondering if it’s weird for him to write “diff” instead of “differential.”

Opting not to worry about it, Neil heads for the shower. He’s still using an old sheet for a towel, and mooching off of Renee’s alleged abundance of toiletries. As much as Neil likes the new shampoo, though—coconut and Moroccan oil—he’s embarrassed to still be borrowing from Renee.

He should probably go to Walmart and get the things his basic human needs require, but Neil just doesn’t have time, and when he does, all he wants to do is sleep or play Exy.

Seems like  _ whatever _ is quickly becoming one of Neil’s most-frequented phrases.

-

Neil is sitting on his bed, hair wet, boredly scanning his Complex Variables notes, when Renee walks in.

She’s balancing her cell phone between her ear and shoulder the way people do in movies, her arms laden down with (what look like) heavy black shopping bags.

Neil immediately rises to help her, but she shakes her head emphatically as a means of waving him off, while simultaneously arguing on the phone with someone she calls “Alli” and flinging the pink hat off her head, all while her arms are occupied, holding up her bags.

Neil doesn’t want to think about how Renee could’ve possibly managed to unlock the door, so he busies himself with the remembering of why girls are scary.

“I’m  _ telling _ you, Alli, he won’t go for it,” says Renee, rolling her eyes at the person in her phone as she deposits the shopping bags on her bed.

Neil wonders who  _ he _ and  _ Alli _ are, but he supposes that if he’s going to pry, he might as well wait until Renee has finished her conversation.

“Hi, Neil,” Renee mouths, flashing him a distracted smile as she listens to whoever she is talking to. Neil waves back, and runs his hands through his messy, damp mop of curls. He can smell the coconut on them, and it’s not a bad scent.

He remembers how he used to assume girls naturally smelled great, like things like peppermint or rose water or coconut. Younger Neil was kind of stupid.

“Okay. Fine. Got it, Al,” Renee says. “I’ll ask him if he wants to… but I doubt it. Um, yeah? Get Dani and Thea. No? Bye.”

With that, Renee removes the phone from her ear and swiftly ends the call, before turning to look at Neil. “Hey, are you busy tonight?”

“Uh,” Neil says. He hasn’t been asked that by anyone in quite a while. It’s strange. But… “No.”

“Great,” Renee grins. “Want to come with me and my friends, out?”

“Out?” Neil asks, unsure of what that’s supposed to mean. Yes, he knows the general meaning, but more details are what he craves at the moment.

“We like to go to this bar in Columbia,” Renee explains, pushing her pastel hair behind her ears. “Eden’s Twilight. Usually, we go up for the weekend and stay overnight at a house over there, but if you want, I’ll ride back with you at the end of the night.”

“Oh,” Neil says. He wonders if it’s a good idea; a bar? Staying overnight? It doesn’t seem like  _ danger _ or anything, but Neil  _ does _ have an assignment due on Monday.

But then again. It’s been so long since he’s “gone out.” And if he rides back with Renee tonight, he has Saturday and most of Sunday to do homework.

So, he says, “Okay.”

“Perfect,” Renee smiles, satisfied. “We can leave in an hour. You don’t need to get all dressed up, but usually, we all try to spruce up before we go.”

“Oh,” Neil repeats, unaware of what “sprucing up” would entail. “Okay?”

“If you like, I can ask one of the boys to lend you something,” Renee proposes as she types out a text message, one-handed.

That… does not sound good. “I’m good, don’t worry,” Neil assures her.

“Alright, cool,” Renee grins. “I’m going to shower. Get dressed in the meantime, okay?”

Neil nods yes, and then pulls his duffel from under the bed where he’s stashed it. His minimal supply of clothing can be found within, and Neil selects what items best define his “spruced up” look.

Dark jeans and a faded gray long-sleeve shirt work fine, and Neil happens to like the top, because it’s warm and thick and the sleeves cover the tips of his fingers, if he lets them.

He gets dressed quickly, before Renee leaves the bathroom, and then runs his hands through his hair again, in attempt to get it dry. His auburn hair is thick, though, with wide curls that take forever to air-dry. Neil spies Renee’s silver blow dryer lying on her nightstand, presumably for later, but he instead opts for toweling his hair dry with his discarded t-shirt.

Since, by the time he’s finished, Renee still isn’t done showering, Neil closes his Complex Variables notes, and places them in his desk drawer with the rest of his study materials.

Finally, Renee exits the bathroom, leaving foggy air behind her, and selects the blow dryer from her nightstand. She retreats into the bathroom once more, and Neil idly wonders if they hour they have before leaving is up yet.

Checking his phone’s clock proves that, no, it isn’t.

Neil slumps back onto the bed and texts Kevin:  _ Hey shitlord, I’m going out tonight _

Kevin, being the helicopter mom he is, texts back within minutes:  _ What do you mean, you’re going out? Where are you going? Who are you going with? _

Neil snorts to himself and replies.  _ With my roommate and her friends, to a place in Columbia _

Kevin:  _ Columbia?? How do you know this is not a trap? And your roommate? What’s his name? Can you be sure he’s trustworthy? _

Neil:  _ HER name is Renee, and yeah of course she’s just my roommate man _

Kevin:  _ Call me when you get there and when you leave, Neil. And don’t get drunk. _

Neil:  _ Okay bye Mom _

Kevin:  _ Stop joking around. Your safety is important, Neil. _

Snorting once more, Neil flicks his phone closed and stows it in his back pocket. The blow dryer cuts off from inside the bathroom, signaling that maybe, just maybe, Renee is almost ready to go.

A minute later, Renee emerges, her hair stylishly blown out. Her pixie bangs are curled forward and look like they are exemplarily fun to pull at and watch bounce back.

Her makeup is done—something sparkly and pink on her lips, her nose and cheekbones especially shiny, and her eyes large and catlike—and she’s wearing a simple lavender dress with a rounded collar that would’ve looked matronly or childish on anyone else, but gives Renee a cute appearance.

“You look nice,” Neil says. Renee smiles.

“Thank you, Neil,” she replies, tucking her platinum and pastel hair behind her ears. She selects a small leather backpack from the hooks beside her desk, and slips her phone, wallet and three lollipops inside.

“Ready to go?” she asks, turning to him. Neil nods. His ratty wallet and phone are in his pockets already.

“My friends will pick us up downstairs,” Renee tells him, and so, they set off.

-

“Woohoo! Friday night, people!” someone shouts from inside the ridiculously hot-pink car that is parked in front of the dorm.

The sunroof is open, and two heads are peeking out, but it’s too dark (not to mention that the figures are too frenzied) for Neil to make out their features.

Renee finger-waves at them, offering up her usual calm smile as a long-legged blonde emerges from the driver’s seat. Clear pink sunglasses sit atop her head, giving her a 2000’s Hollywood Barbie look. She flicks her perfect locks behind her ears and shoots Renee an appraising glance.

“Hey,” says the blonde, to Renee. “You look hot. Passenger’s?”

Renee grins at her and nods, tapping Neil on the shoulder. “This is Allison,” Renee says, nodding to the girl, who places her hand on her hip.

“Allison Reynolds,” the girl says. She seems to tower over Neil, though realistically, she can’t be more than two inches taller than him. “Foxes’ defensive dealer. Fucking hot bitch.” She extends her hand to shake with Neil, and Neil, utterly intimidated, obliges.

“I’m Neil Josten,” he says. “I’m, um, Renee’s roommate.”

“We’ll see if you’re worth her time,” Allison says simply, before turning on her stiletto heel and climbing back into the car.

“There’s room for you in the back, with Seth and Matt,” Renee suggests, nodding her head towards the two with their heads out the sunroof.

Neil assumes this will be an interesting night.

Climbing in the backseat, he claims the spot closest to the left door, which is also the only empty one left.

Two guys are crowding the space, awkwardly standing, their heads still invisible.

“Seth! Matt! Get yourselves the fuck inside before I drive into a tree and skewer you,” snaps Allison from the front seat.

As they duck back inside, Neil finally catches a glimpse of the guy closest to him’s appearance. He’s dark-skinned and handsome, with an easygoing grin on his face.

“Hey,” he says to Neil, still smiling. “I’m Matt.”

“Neil,” replies Neil simply. For lack of better conversation topics, he asks, “Uh, how do you know Renee and Allison?”

“Aw, Allison and I go way back,” Matt says, as the other man behind him lowers himself down into his seat. “Our parents are both rich as hell, so we used to go to private school together. But now we’re just bros. Right, Allison?”

“Yeah, Boyd,” she says from the front seat, affection in the simple nickname.

“And I got Renee from Allison, too. Of course, we’re also friends ’cause we’re all on the Foxes,” Matt points out.

“Really? What position?” Neil asks, eyes growing wide at the mention of Exy. Matt grins, seeming pleased at Neil’s reaction.

“Backliner,” he says.

“Nice,” Neil says. “I have a tryout with Coach Wymack on Wednesday. I’m hoping I make it. Exy is my favorite thing.”

“I hope you make it, too, dude,” Matt says. “You seem pretty cool, from what Renee’s told me.”

“Yeah,” says the other guy, peering over Matt’s shoulder. “I’m Seth,” he adds after a moment.

“Neil,” repeats Neil, finger-waving him to him the way he saw Renee do earlier. Seth grins.

“Neil of the girly waves, looks like,” Seth says

“Uh,” Neil says, unsure of what to say to that.

“Shut up, Seth. Neil, he’s just joking,” Matt assures Neil, clapping a hand on Seth’s shoulder in a way that’s both warning and friendly.

From the front seat, Allison says, “Guys, it’s time to play our favorite banger.”

“Oh, god, no,” Seth says, placing his head in his hands, but still not doing a good job of hiding his grin.

“Oh, god, yeah!” Matt chimes in, fist bumping with Allison, who stretches her arm back from the driver’s seat. Her nails are bright pink.

Renee just shakes her head and smiles fondly.

“What,” says Neil, mostly to himself.

“We’re gonna play the best song in existence,” Matt explains to Neil, and then nods to Allison. “Crank it up, Reynolds.”

“Crank it  _ up! _ ” Seth repeats.

Under Allison’s instruction, Renee connects the former’s cell phone (encased in sparkly silver plastic) to the car’s auxiliary cord. Scrolling through Spotify, she selects a title that Neil can’t see.

A nostalgic, low-quality tune pulses through the car, so loud that the beat literally shakes and rattles the car. Neil, whose head is against the window, can acutely feel his skull vibrating.

A female voice pipes up, and with it, Allison’s, Matt’s and Seth’s. In off-key harmony, they belt out the first lyrics to Olivia Newton-John’s  _ Physical. _

Neil thought he knew true pain, but apparently not.

“YOU KNOW WHAT I  _ MEAN! _ ” Matt shouts at the top of his lungs, as Allison harmonizes in the background. Seth imitates a very twangy guitar solo.

Neil is hyper aware of the fact that the sunroof is wide open, and  _ everyone _ in the vicinity can hear  _ everything _ that’s being sun from within the hot pink car.

“THERE’S NOTHING LEFT TO TALK ABOUT,” Allison shouts, pumping her fist in the air, even though she’s the one driving, “LESS IT’S HORIZONTALLY!”

Neil turns to Renee and mouths, “What the hell?”

She simply shakes her head, a small smile still on her face, despite the madness occurring around them.

“C’mon, Neil, duet with me,” Matt suggests, punching Neil’s shoulder lightly, before launching into a lyric about bodies and talking that Neil’s not really in the mood to get to the bottom of.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says, trying to sound polite as possible.

“I’ll duet with you, bro,” Seth offers, and Matt gives him an high-five.

An hour more of this? Neil doesn’t know if he can survive.

-

He survives.

They all arrive in Columbia in one piece—even though there were multiple moments when Neil wished to be put out of his misery—and they file out of Allison’s car in the parking lot of a place called Sweetie’s.

“We’re meeting more friends here,” Renee explains, falling into step with Neil as they follow the others towards the sanctuary of pancakes and bright yellow lamps that is the diner.

“Oh,” Neil says. “More?” He doesn’t mean to sound like he doesn’t like Renee’s other friends, but he sure doesn’t like their car singalong activities.

“Yes, more,” Renee laughs a little bit. “You know Andrew, yes?”

“Yes. He’s going to be here?” Neil asks, suddenly feeling self-conscious. His favorite Exy player, with him, in a bar in Columbia?

“Mhm. He organizes these trips, usually,” Renee says. “He’s the one who discovered Sweetie’s for us.”

“Oh,” Neil repeats. For lack of a better response, really.

“He’s already here with his group, I think. I see his car,” Renee adds, just as Allison props open the diner’s door for her.

“Thank you,” Renee tells Allison with a smile that the latter returns. Neil remembers what Renee said about her sexuality on the first day they met, and wonders if there’s something happening between the two blondes.

Allison  _ did _ call Renee hot at the beginning of the night.

As Matt, Seth, Allison and Renee walk towards an already half-full table in a corner, Neil’s phone buzzes from inside his pocket. Taking it out as he follows, he opens his messages to text from Kevin.

_ Hey, Neil _ , Kevin’s message says,  _ that place in Columbia you’re going to, what’s it called? _

_ I don’t know _ , Neil types back. He glances at the other sent messages in his inbox; there’s the message he sent to Marissa earlier, still unanswered.

“Neil, come sit here,” Renee calls. Neil sinks into the booth next to her, his runaway’s mind automatically noting the fact that he’s seated at the end of the booth, the easiest spot to escape from.

Immediately, Neil squashes the thought.  _ You’re not a runaway anymore, man _ , he tells himself.  _ Quit thinking like one. _

When Neil looks up, he sees not one, but  _ three _ familiar faces among the crew that arrived first. Andrew is seated next to his cousin Nicky, whom Neil’s been introduced to, and…  _ another _ Andrew?

Neil looks between the two of them, bewildered, and Andrew—or someone who  _ looks _ like Andrew—quickly catches on.

“My twin brother,” Andrew deadpans, motioning to the identical man sitting one seat over from him. Now that Neil can see his arms, it’s easy to differentiate: Andrew’s got his armbands on, while the other one’s arms are bare aside from his rolled-up shirtsleeves.

“Oh,” Neil says, again.

“I’m Aaron,” says the twin, nodding at Neil. They both have the same sullen, emotionless appearance. Neil wonders if it’s something unique to them two, or if it runs in the family. Then, Neil looks back at Nicky, and comes to the conclusion that it’s a twins-only thing.

“I’m Neil,” Neil replies. He’s introduced himself quite a lot so far, and it’s getting tiring to keep telling the group his name. But it feels sort of therapeutic, at the same time, to be saying that he is  _ Neil _ over and over.

Neil, and  _ not _ Nathaniel, or Alex or Stefan or Chris. And  _ definitely _ not ‘Junior.’

“You know me, of course,” Nicky points out, “And the rest of the gang you just rode up with. Welcome to the squad.”

“Thanks?” Neil says, his voice rising at the end of the statement, changing it into a tentative question.

“Now, can we order? I think it’s about time we got this party started!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! if you couldnt tell, im working on keeping the updates coming :). next chapter is their evening at edens, and thats the basic gist. i hope you enjoyed! thank you so much for comments & kudos, as usual!
> 
> also; you can find me on tumblr @ saintsforbid >:)


	5. 005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter @ eden’s! some andrew/neil tension bc OF COURSE; a lil bit of nicky flirting with our boy, but oh well; RENISON!; neil’s past coming back to haunt him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! as usual, im not betaed, so apologies for any/all mistakes, etc. i wrote this in like half a day bc i wanted to get the show on the road, so sorry about how short this is, and if it seems rushed! no trigger warnings for this chapter, except alcohol.

Allison is drunk.

It’s been about twenty minutes since they’ve arrived at Eden’s Twilight, the club in Columbia that Andrew is supposedly the mayor of, and already, the tall blonde is slurring her words and hanging all over Renee.

It’s kind of funny.

“And you’re so  _ pretty _ and hot, like,  _ whoa,” _ Allison says, resting her head on Renee’s shoulder. Renee fondly smiles at her as she cards her fingers through Allison’s flawless blonde hair.

So it’s a yes on them being a thing, then.

Nicky, Aaron, and Seth have been doing shots for the past fifteen minutes, and Seth, claiming to be the group’s heavyweight, is listing every single breed of dog that he knows of while Nicky listens intently and Aaron pokes his foot repeatedly.

Neil sits alone, as Matt and Andrew are getting the next round of drinks from the bar.

Seeing as he doesn’t drink, Neil’s ordered a soda, but even that is too much for his system right now. He’s already dizzy from the club’s aggressively fluctuating strobe lights and pounding music.

According to Renee, two more of their friends are due to arrive any minute now—two girls, Neil is pretty sure—but it seems like a hopeless case, because the assuring “any minute now” was uttered several minutes earlier.

“Yo, Neil,” Nicky slurs, leaning towards Neil, batting his eyelashes. “D’you like… like, like-like boys?”

“Huh?” Neil asks. “That was a lot of ‘likes.’”

“I mean, like…” Nicky trails off, his head lolling slightly to the side, “Are you  _ gay?” _

“Oh,” Neil says. “Uh. No.” It’s a simple answer to a simple question. Neil isn’t gay; he’s not particularly attracted to guys. He’s also not quite straight, either, though. Neil doesn’t think about it often, but the few times he has considered his own sexuality, he’s come to the conclusion that he’s just in some weird gray area.

“Aw,” Nicky says. “Too bad. You’re really hot.”

Despite Nicky being someone that Neil is in no way attracted to, as well as drunk off his ass, Neil blushes. “Thanks?” he says, though it’s more of a question than a reply.

“You’re welcome,” Nicky mumbles, lurching back toward Seth and Aaron.

“Uh, German terrier,” Seth says, and Aaron shakes his head.

“No, you  _ said _ that one already, Seth.” Aaron shakes his head, sounding exasperated. “Try again.”

Neil, who isn’t absolutely sure that German terriers are a thing, having spent time in Germany himself, opts to tune out the drunken babble once again.

As Neil bounces his foot aimlessly, Matt and Andrew reappear, both of their arms laden with drinks. Nicky cheers, excited, when the array of alcohol is set down on the little table.

Aaron immediately selects something bright orange and mildly corrosive-looking, while Seth and Nicky go for beers. Neil just grabs his Coke and Renee’s Sprite, sitting back and watching the crowd.

A girl is dancing not too far away, and Neil thinks that maybe he recognizes her. She’s almost obnoxiously tall with a skim-milk-pale complexion and strawberry blonde hair that falls almost to her waist.

She’s not ordinary looking, which is why Neil wonders where he’s seen her. At the moment, she’s having an animated conversation with the petite girl next to her, and every so often during the conversation, Neil notices that she reaches up to touch the butterfly-shaped pin in her hair.

Neil must be watching pretty intently, because the girl turns around and looks at him. Before he can look away, though, he sees her eyes widen in recognition.

_ That can’t be good. _

Immediately turning away from her, Neil finds himself face-to-face with Andrew.

“Hi,” Neil says. There’s only a few inches between them, and Neil finds himself feeling inexplicably flustered at the proximity.

“Neil,” Andrew acknowledges, nodding ever so slightly at him as he takes a sip of whatever it is he’s drinking.

“They’re all drunk,” Neil states.

“Yes,” Andrew nods. “That’s typically what happens when people go to bars. They consume alcohol. They get drunk.”

“Shut up,” Neil hisses. “I know that.”

“Really, Neil? Because it doesn’t seem to me like you know very much about anything,” says Andrew, his voice filled with unwarranted venom.

“Fuck you,” Neil says. “What did I ever do to you to make you treat me like an asshole?”

“You existed,” Andrew replies, his expression blank, but his eyes filled with ire.

The colorful lights are turning Andrew’s icy hair every shade of the rainbow right now, and it’s irritatingly pretty. Neil wants to push him, but he holds back.

He’s not a brute.

Huffing to himself, Neil turns away from Andrew and stares out into the crowd again. And then he sees her once more; the red-haired girl. She’s staring right at him, and that’s when it hits Neil right on the nose.

Silver butterfly hairpin. Waist-length ginger hair. Pale as the snow, tall as a mountain. Jessi Fenton, ninth grader, Princeville, Connecticut.

And she’s walking right towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello to jessi fenton! shes not really an oc, just here to make trouble for neil, but i did create her, so please dont mention her anywhere else without my permission!
> 
> thank you for reading! your support is much appreciated! (also: you can find me on tumblr @ saintsforsaken).


	6. 006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> continuation of the gang @ eden’s! things get pretty wacky, i’m not going to lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: as usual, i’m not betaed, apologies in advance for mistakes, etc.  
2: this is a longer-ish chapter to make up for how short the last one was :)).  
3: i’m going to say trigger warning for alcohol/drunkenness, mild violence & smoking?

Neil scans the room for a way out, but there is none that won’t look suspicious, and  _ oh shit, she’s standing right here. _

“Hey,” Jessi Fenton says, pushing her long hair over her shoulder and fixing Neil with a blatantly assessing, trying-to-pinpoint look. “Do I know you?”

“Sorry?” Neil asks, trying for a casual appearance, like he wasn’t just panicking, looking for a way to get away from the girl in front of him. He can also feel Andrew’s gaze positively boring into his back, and it’s not the most comfortable thing, especially when Neil’s also essentially facing his demise.

“You’re Alex, right? Alex Mackenzie?” Jessi says, tilting her head to the side, still appraising. “Your hair’s lighter. Did you dye it?”

“What?” Neil asks, feigning confusion, even as his blood runs cold. Not only does Jessi totally recognize and remember him, she also notices that he’s changed his appearance. The truth is, the color Jessi saw—dark brown—was the fake one. Neil’s current auburn is his natural hair, but Jessi has no way of knowing that.

“I’m Jessi,” says Jessi, tilting her head to the side. “You  _ do _ remember me, right? I’m from Princeville.”

“I’m sorry, that doesn’t ring a bell,” Neil says, shaking his head, praying to whatever god there may be that Jessi just drops it.

“Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember Alex Mackenzie looking  _ just _ like you—and I knew Alex Mackenzie pretty goddamn well,” Jessi says, laughing at that last bit.

Neil knows what she’s thinking; she had been his— _ Alex’s _ —best friend in Princeville, Connecticut, and they’d even kissed a couple of times before Neil and his mother had split.

Neil remembers how, before they left, he’d sit in his sleeping bag in the house they were squatting, and think about Jessi, laughing and making jokes about the other kids in their freshman class. He remembers how he liked the dark eyeliner she wore, making her look racoonish and even paler.

She’s not wearing it tonight.

And that reminds Neil: no matter what Jessi says, she didn’t know “Alex” well. Not at all.

“I really don’t know who that is,” Neil continues, shaking his head. He desperately wants for her to forget it and walk away. He wonders what the fuck Jessi Fenton is doing here, miles away from her hometown. He wonders if Andrew is still watching, but he doesn’t want to risk glancing over at him.

“Huh,” Jessi says, after studying Neil for a moment. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Her voice still sounds suspicious, but she brings her fingers to her butterfly clip and shrugs. “Sorry for bothering you. Have a nice night.”

With that, Jessi turns on her platform heel—very different from the high-top Vans she wore back in Connecticut—and rejoins the girl Neil saw her with previously.

Neil lets out a breath and turns around, both wired and exhausted from adrenaline.

And Andrew Minyard is staring at him. Dark eyes stare into his, and Andrew’s voice is ice-cold when he says, “Let’s go for a walk,  _ Neil.” _

-

Neil’s nerves are jumping as he and Andrew leave the suffocating heat of the bar, and step into clean, cold night air. He wonders if he could take Andrew. He definitely could, if it wasn’t for Andrew’s stupid Exy player muscles.

They round a corner, and then they’re in a secluded alleyway, the moonlight a mere memory in the near-pitch darkness.

“What—” Neil starts, but before he can finish, Andrew has him pinned against the wall, one hand on Neil’s chest, pressing him into the brick, the other closed around his throat. Andrew is glares menacingly into Neil’s eyes with his own dark ones.

“Who are you,” Andrew hisses.

“I’m Neil,” Neil says, struggling to speak with Andrew’s iron grip on his throat.

“No, you’re not,” Andrew says. “Don’t give me that bullshit. I heard that girl. You’re lying, and if you want to get home in one piece tonight, you’d better fess up about what.”

Neil shuts his mouth.

“If you don’t want to talk, Neil, that’s okay,” Andrew says, letting Neil’s throat go, mercifully, and pulling back enough that he can extend one arm between them. “I have ways of making you.”

Making sure that Neil sees, Andrew tilts his arm, and in the blink of an eye, a knife appears in his hand. Presumably, Andrew produced it from his armband. It’s small, sharp, and unforgiving.

Who does that remind Neil of?

But knives are mild. Neil has survived worse than knives. And he doubts Andrew will do a thing to him. For some reason, despite the dull fury and apathy mixed in Andrew’s eyes, Neil feels relatively safe.

Maybe that’s because Andrew’s weight is pinning him to a wall, though.

Neil doesn’t open his mouth.

Andrew sighs and retaliates by pressing the cold metal of the knife to the base Neil’s throat, just above his collarbone. “A cut right here might be lethal, Neil,” Andrew says, his voice calm.

“I’ve survived lethal things,” Neil whispers. He doesn’t miss the way Andrew’s eyes darken and the sound of the shorter boy’s sharp intake of breath, but that doesn’t mean Neil understands what’s causing it.

“So have I,” Andrew replies, his knife not moving. “Talk.”

Neil doesn’t see any other option, and he’s pretty sure he can tell when someone’s been through a lot. Andrew certainly has.

“Fine, Minyard,” Neil breathes. “Here’s the truth. I’ve been running for a long time. I have finally found a place to rest. I don’t want my past to ruin that for me by coming back to haunt me.”

“So you lied to that girl?” Andrew asks, his intense, heavy-lidded gaze not leaving Neil’s.

“Yes,” Neil says. “Do you have a problem with lying?”

“Not with lying. With liars,” Andrew mutters.

“Hate the sin, love the sinner?”

“Not quite.”

“Fine. I told you my story,” Neil begins.

“Certainly a barebones version,” Andrew hisses in return.

“—but a version nonetheless,” Neil insists. Andrew frowns at him, his expression that of a dog ready to bite at any sign of trouble, but he remains silent in concession.

“So,” Neil says carefully, “Care to trade?”

“Trade what, Neil?”

“A truth for a truth.”

Andrew studies him, his head tilted slightly to the side. His apathy is evident in the dull roam of his eyes over Neil’s lightly scarred face, but Neil sees something hungry there, too. He wonders what lurks inside Andrew Minyard that so many Exy reporters’ cameras failed to capture.

“A truth for a truth,” Andrew agrees, finally. After another moment, he says, “Aaron and I sometimes switch places.”

“Really?” Neil asks, wondering if Andrew’s so-called truth was anything but. Though it isn’t something dangerous, or even worth lying about, it does seem like something that only happens in movies.

“Yes,” Andrew says, expression flat as ever.

Neil lets out a small, surprised laugh, and Andrew’s gaze hardens ever-so-slightly.

“Sorry, I just—that doesn’t sound like the sort of thing that actually happens,” Neil shrugs as best he can, still pinned to the wall.

“Yes, well,” Andrew says, sliding his knife nimbly back into his armband, “I suppose I do a lot of things that people don’t think actually happens.”

“Cryptic,” Neil says, raising an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not today, runaway. I told my truth.” With that, Andrew steps back from Neil and relinquishes his grip.

They stand in silence for a moment, before Andrew reaches into his pocket and brings out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

After Andrew lights it and takes a drag, Neil asks, “May I have a drag?” He wonders if he’s possibly pushing his luck. Yes, Andrew told him that secret, but it was a transaction, and it’s not as if they’re suddenly friends.

Wordlessly, though, Andrew passes the cigarette to Neil, who takes it, as well as a slow drag.

They pass it back and forth in silence until Andrew’s phone starts ringing obnoxiously from his pocket. Whipping it out and flipping it open—it looks like it might be the same model as Neil’s, surprisingly—he accepts the call and answers with a sigh.

“Yes,” he says simply, before snapping it shut and walking out of the alley. Neil scrambles to follow him, his mind still swimming with the events of the last hour or so.

-

When Neil and Andrew reenter the club, it’s not hard to find their group. Everyone except Matt and Renee is just as smashed as they were before, but a new development is the presence of two girls.

One of them is about Neil’s height, with glossy dark hair in two braids down her back. She fixes Neil with an unimpressed stare when they are first introduced by Renee, and doesn’t make a move to socialize further. Over the din of the party, though, Neil is pretty sure he heard Renee call her ‘Thea.’

The other woman is much friendlier. She practically towers over Neil, and would be about Kevin’s height if he were here. Her name is Dan, and she chats with Neil about Exy as she sips her drink.

“Wow, you really should try out,” Dan says. “We’ll need some more stone-cold survivors on the team, and I get the vibe that you are one.”

Neil nods, but cringes inwardly at just how spot-on Dan is with that diagnosis. Andrew notices too, evidently, because Neil can feel his laser glare boring into him from where he sits to Neil’s left.

“ _ Soooo, _ Neil, where’d you go with Andrew?” slurred Nicky, tapping Neil on the shoulder.

“Just to smoke,” Neil says immediately. He’s a good liar, though, so when they come out, his words don’t sound rushed.

“You smoke?” Dan asks, eyebrows raised.

“No,” Neil assures her. “Just went to keep Andrew company.”

“I had no idea you two were friends,” Renee says from the other side of the table. Her near-nonexistent eyebrows are raised, and for some reason, Neil wants to shush her.

“Neil and I are great buddies,” Andrew deadpans, and Dan rolls her eyes.

“Whatever, Minyard,” she sighs. “Anyway, Neil. When’s your tryout?”

“Tuesday,” replies Neil. “I’ve been practicing with Kevin.”

“Kevin  _ Day?” _ Dan asks, obviously surprised.

“Yes,” says Neil. “He and I are childhood friends, and he offered to prep me for it. It’s been kind of stressful, though. He’s a tough coach.”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Dan snorts. Out of the corner of his periphery, Neil can see that Allison’s fallen asleep on Renee’s shoulder. Renee is chatting with Thea, who is detachedly taking drinks out of Seth’s hands as he picks them up.

“Kevin constantly tries to captain the team, even though it’s  _ my _ job,” Dan explains. Matt grins at her from the other end of the table.

“And you’re damn good at it, too, baby,” Matt tells her, and Dan rolls her eyes.

Neil thinks they’re sort of cute together. Renee and Allison, too.

Matt and Dan launch into a conversation about the trials and tribulations of captaining a team as apparently rowdy as the Foxes, and Thea and Renee jump in, discussing their previous captain, a guy named Cameron Beckett, who apparently beat an intense drug addiction prior to joining the team.

Neil attempts to listen to the conversation, but he gets bored easily, since he doesn’t know a thing about Cameron. He lets his gaze drift away from the group in front of him, and finds himself staring into Andrew’s face.

Except it’s not Andrew. It’s Aaron.

“Oh,” Neil says.

“Oh,” Aaron mocks, narrowing his eyes at Neil. “Don’t you ‘oh’ me.”

“What?” Neil asks. He knows that Aaron’s drunk, so he doesn’t buy much into the tone he’s using, but still. It’s never pleasant to be mocked by a drunk five foot blonde.

“You were… you were out with… my brother,” Aaron says, not so much slurring his words as tripping over them.

“Yeah,” Neil says. “We went for a smoke.” He doesn’t understand what Aaron’s getting at with his accusatory glares, but it’s kind of getting under Neil’s skin.

“Well you better—you better not hurt him,” Aaron says, his glare only intensifying when Neil lets his confusion show on his face.

“I—what?” Neil asks.

“You  _ better _ not,” Aaron hisses. “My brother’s been… been through a  _ lot, _ you know… and if you hurt ’im, I’ll… I’ll kill you.”

“Um, okay?” Neil says, feeling weirdly defensive against Aaron’s overprotective ramblings. “I’m not planning on hurting him.”

“Good,” Aaron says, before promptly turning around and downing a shot.

“Okay, then,” Neil mumbles to himself. Confused by Aaron’s weirdness, Neil resolves to ignore it, and he turns away towards the conversation Renee, Thea, Matt and Dan are still having.

Andrew has disappeared from the group, and it seems like his absence hasn’t been picked up upon by the others. It’s conspicuous to Neil, though, as Andrew has been his main companion the entire night.

When Neil looks back to the bar, scanning for Andrew, he notices that the bartender from before isn’t there anymore, either.

Interesting.

The song switches, and Nicky’s eyes grow wide from across the table. He grabs Aaron’s and Seth’s arms and squeals, “Oh my gosh, this is my song, we have to dance!”

Disgruntled, Aaron and Seth shrug, standing to join Nicky.

Neil glances at the time on his phone’s screen. He doesn’t think to check his messages, though. Marissa’s reply is far from his mind at the moment. He’s too busy wondering about Andrew.

Scanning the crowd once more, Neil sighs and turns back to the conversation. “Aha,” Allison says, seeming to have stirred from her nap on Renee’s shoulder.

“Huh?” Neil asks, turning to her.

“You were looking for A-Andrew,” Allison hiccups, a knowing grin spreading across her face.

“Oh. Um, yeah,” Neil agrees. He was, after all.

“Haha,” Allison says, not actually laughing, but just pronouncing the sound she might’ve made if she were. Her smirk is getting under Neil’s skin the same way Aaron’s accusations were, and Neil wonders if Renee is aware of how annoying her friends are.

“Good night, Allison,” Neil says, leaning back against his chair and closing his eyes. This has been a long night, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, as usual! thinks have been sort of moving along for andrew & neil, as you can see.
> 
> you can probably tell that i’ve veered a shit ton off of the fangirl plot, but hopefully we’ll come back to that in a few chapters.
> 
> find me on tumblr @ saintsforbid!


	7. 007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oooooooh andrew & neil are interacting? possibly? ft. drunk everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies in advance for any mistakes/unintentional inconsistencies! i’m tired, dumb & unbetaed.
> 
> possible trigger warnings: drunkenness, drunk-ish driving & talk of ptsd, anxiety depression, mental health in general.

It’s the end of the night, everyone is stupid drunk except for Renee, Thea, Neil and Andrew. The group collectively moves to the club’s parking lot and everyone gathers to discuss who is driving whom.

Andrew reappeared around the time that the lot were getting ready to leave Eden’s, and rather than interrogating him as Andrew had done to him, Neil just gave him a curious glance that Andrew had returned with a flat glare.

“I’ll take Dan,” Thea says, sighing as she glances over at the team captain in question. She’s giggling at something Matt told her, and Matt looks elated to have gotten that reaction out of her.

“Allison gave me instructions to take everyone that rode with us home in her car,” Renee says, nodding her head towards Matt, and Seth, who is talking animatedly with Nicky and Aaron.

Andrew just stares flatly at the girls and Neil, showing that he’s taking home his lot.

“Neil?” Renee asks, turning towards him. “Do you want to ride back with us in Allison’s car?”

“I think,” Neil begins carefully, looking between Renee and Andrew in a manner he hopes is inconspicuous, “Matt and Seth might need the whole back seat to lay down on. They look like they’re going to pass out any minute now.”

This is true; the two of them are practically staggering around the lot. It might’ve been comical if Neil wasn’t so exhausted.

“Ah,” Renee nods. “That makes sense.”

“Do you want to ride in my car, then?” asks Thea, looking amiable to that idea. She’s not been the most conversational of the group so far, but every interaction Neil has had with her has been perfectly nice and civil.

“He will ride with me,” Andrew speaks up.

Neil turns to Andrew, raising an eyebrow, but Andrew doesn’t offer any explanation. Neil’s not opposed to that, though, so he simply shrugs.

“That’s fine with me,” Neil concedes. He’d be lying if he says that he isn’t at least a little bit intrigued by whatever mystery thing Andrew had going on. And, he wants to continue that truth-for-a-truth thing they had going before.

“You’re going to the Columbia house?” Renee asks, looking extremely curious.

“Yes,” Andrew says, as Neil offers, “I guess.”

“Alright, then,” Renee shrugs after a moment. “Text me when you get there. You, too, Thea.”

“Got it,” Thea nods.

“I don’t have your number,” Neil reminds Renee, who nods towards the shorter man at Neil’s side.

“Andrew will give it to you.”

Andrew’s silence is as good a confirmation as any, and Renee nods her head towards the drunken gang around them. “I’d better go wrangle the others.”

“Same,” Thea agrees, and Andrew nods once.

They part ways to grab their respective entourages, and then everyone piles into the cars.

Andrew nods at a monstrous black Maserati, parked at the corner of the lot, and Neil can’t say his eyes don’t widen when he sees it.

“That’s  _ yours?” _ asks Neil.

“No, dumbass, it’s Barack Obama’s,” Andrew deadpans. “Of course it’s mine.”

Andrew unlocks the car, and Neil helps him corral Nicky and Aaron and get them into the backseat. It’s difficult when they’re both nearly catatonic, but the pair of them manage. He then joins Andrew up front, sliding almost reverently into the spotless passenger seat, careful not to leave smudges on each perfect surface.

Andrew snorts. “It’s not a holy grail, idiot.”

“It’s an expensive car,” Neil shrugs, nodding at the car’s shining interior. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Your fingerprints won’t mess it up,” Andrew replies, turning the key in the ignition. Neil doesn’t know if it’s exactly okay for Andrew to drive, given that minutes ago, he was drinking an ungodly amount of alcohol. He seems perfectly lucid, though, and Neil has done his own fair share of illegal things, so he’s obviously not one to talk. The car roars to life, and Neil chews on his lip in contemplation as Andrew pulls it out of the parking lot.

“They’ll leave evidence that I was here,” Neil finally quips, and Andrew snorts from the seat next to him.

“A runaway’s greatest fear,” Andrew responds dryly. The two of them lapse back into silence after that, but it’s not necessarily a bad silence, or an uncomfortable silence.

More like a contemplative, exhausted one.

-

When they reach the Columbia house, Aaron and Nicky file inside. Andrew motions for Neil to follow, so he does, pulling his phone from his pocket as he does so.

A message from Kevin, of course.  _ Hello????? Where are you??? Did you get to Columbia safely??? _

_ Yeah, _ Neil writes back.  _ I’m going to stay at a friend’s house. All safe & good _

Barely a minute later, Kevin’s reply comes through, lighting up Neil’s phone screen.  _ Use protection, Neil!!!! _

_ EW, _ Neil replies swiftly, inwardly cringing at the thought of him and Andrew sleeping together.  _ Totally not that kind of friend _

_ Um, okay. Whatever. Call in the morning, and be back in time for practise!!! _ Kevin writes.

_ Ugh, _ is Neil’s simple reply. He snaps his phone shut, not bothering to check his other messages, and turns to the front door, which Andrew has just walked through. After locking the door behind him, Andrew turns to meet Neil’s gaze.

“Did they go to bed?” Andrew asks.

“Yeah,” Neil nods. “Nicky wanted to shower, too, but I told him to wait ’til tomorrow.”

“Good,” Andrew says. “He’d drown himself if he showered now.”

Neil doesn’t have a good reply for that, so he stays silent.

“Water,” Andrew nods towards the small kitchen. “Sleep in there,” he adds, motioning to the room Nicky went into.

“Oh,” Neil says. “Okay.”

With that, Andrew disappears into yet a third room, the last one besides what Neil assumes is the bathroom, and closes the door. Neil watches the lock turn with a  _ click. _ He sort of wants to knock and demand Andrew come out and explain exactly what the fuck he’s been doing this entire night, but it’s fucking late at night, and Neil’s not  _ that _ much of an asshole.

Following Andrew’s instruction, Neil wanders to the kitchen and grabs himself a glass of water. He downs it quickly, taking stock of his surroundings as he does so, and then he enters Nicky’s bedroom.

Feeling like he’s creeping on Nicky somehow, Neil avoids the bed and lowers himself onto the carpeted floor. It’s not too bad, and Neil has slept on concrete and earth before. He’s used to this sort of thing.

Despite that, though, it takes Neil a while to fall asleep. That isn’t abnormal, however. The insomnia has been a side effect of Neil’s apparent PTSD. Possibly also depression and anxiety, Kevin said, but Neil isn’t sure.

He doesn’t know what anxiety and depression are supposed to feel like, so he can’t make the diagnosis. And it’s just Neil’s old instincts talking, yes, but he’s apprehensive of going to a real doctor and getting real therapy. He’s afraid of sharing too much. Afraid of getting caught.

Which is ridiculous.

Because his father is  _ gone, _ and who Neil used to be…  _ he’s _ gone, too. There’s no one left but Neil A. Josten, and that’s his  _ legal _ name.

After a few minutes, Neil hears Nicky stirring, and out of habit, he immediately plays dead. (Or asleep. Whatever.) Nicky doesn’t wake, though, just mumbles something unintelligible about someone named Eric, and then flops back over.

It’s fine. Neil is fine.

An unfamiliar environment  _ should not _ be getting these emotions from him. If anything, unfamiliar environments are what Neil knows best.

Nevertheless, Neil focuses himself on repeating equations’ formulas in his head, and eventually, he drifts off.

His sleep is heavy and dreamless, for the most part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short-ish chapter that concludes the night at eden’s! hope this wasn’t too boring. as i said, things’ll start heating up for the boys soon.
> 
> thank you, as usual, for reading!! comments & etc mean so much, so thank you.
> 
> finally, you can find me on tumblr @ saintsforbid. don’t hesitate to request a one shot or submit a fic prompt if the fancy strikes you!


	8. 008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some renee, nicky, wymack, kevin & andrew content! marissa texts neil back & he replies! some stuff on neil’s ~tragic backstory~!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! preemptive apologies for any mistakes or inconsistencies since i’m not betaed!
> 
> trigger warnings: references to neil’s abuse, panic attack towards the end, and references to allergies i think?

Marissa from class:  _ Hey Neil :) How are u? _

-

“Do you like peanut butter?” asks Nicky, pointing at an item on the laminated menu in front of Neil.

“Um,” Neil ponders it. “I don’t think I’ve ever had peanut butter.”

“Haha,” Nicky snorts, before looking back at Neil and apparently realizing that he’s not joking. “Wait. What? You  _ are _ just kidding, right?”

“No,” Neil replies honestly. “I’ve never tried it.”

“...Like, due to allergies?” Nicky asks after a pause, his brown eyes wide.

“Not that I know of,” Neil shrugs. He knows he hasn’t exactly had the most normal childhood, but not having tried peanut butter isn’t  _ that _ weird, is it?

“What the  _ fuck,” _ Nicky breathes, looking like he’s recently found out that Neil has a second head. He turns to Andrew, who is listening to Renee and essentially ignoring everyone in the room except her.

“Andrew, Renee—Neil has never had peanut butter,” Nicky says, slamming his palms down on the tabletop of their booth in the cute little diner Renee brought them to.

Andrew looks at Neil in emotionless silence for a moment. “Why,” he finally says, his gaze entirely on Neil.

“My mom just… never saw the need in me trying foods for the sake of trying them,” Neil shrugs. He doesn’t see what is so astounding about that. They had been trying to  _ survive. _ “We ate so we wouldn’t die.”

Nicky stares at Neil, wide-eyed shocked. Renee looks more than a little bit concerned. Andrew’s usual bland expression never wavers.

“That’s… horrible,” Nicky finally says.

Neil shrugs again. He really doesn’t mind the fact that he’s never tried peanut butter. It just doesn’t  _ matter _ that much to him.

“Now you can try any food that your heart desires,” Renee points out kindly, placing her hand over Neil’s on the table, a gesture of comfort that Neil finds he appreciates more than he cares to admit.

“Hell yeah, you can, and peanut butter is  _ first _ on that list,” Nicky announces definitively. He immediately raises a hand to flag the waitress, and Neil finds Andrew’s eyes on him.

He nods infinitesimally to the blonde. Obviously, Andrew doesn’t mirror Neil’s action, or even give any obvious indication that he saw Neil’s nod at all. But somehow, whether due to him watching Andrew carefully, or more likely, his knowledge of the ‘tells’ his mother told him about, Neil notices the tiny narrowing of Andrew’s eyes.

That’s enough for him to give Andrew a genuine, tiny, secret smile. Andrew returns it  _ this _ time, giving Neil a full-on squint in return. Neil just shrugs and turns back to Nicky, who is busy ordering something called a Reese’s Blast milkshake.

“So,” Nicky says, turning to face Neil after the waitress leaves with their (extensive) orders. “What other  _ extremely important _ foods have you not tried?”

-

Neil pushes a hand through his sweaty mop of hair and turns to Wymack, his face flushed. A two hour long Exy tryout will do that to him. “Thank you for the opportunity,” Neil says, because he knows that’s what he’s supposed to say. And, well, he’s thankful. “When can I expect to hear from you?”

Coach Wymack raises an eyebrow at him, looking like he’s surprised at Neil’s ridiculousness. Neil has only talked to this man three times, but he already gets the idea that Wymack is kind of grumpy.

“What the hell are you talking about, Josten?” asks Wymack.

“Um,” Neil says. “Like, when can I expect to hear if I’m on the team or not?”

“Jesus Mary, Josten, you’re on the damn team,” Wymack huffs. “You’re about the fastest player I’ve ever seen. And I’m short a striker two months before the season.”

Neil’s eyes widen, and his jaw  _ absolutely _ drops like that of a particularly surprised Looney Tunes character. (He knows  _ some _ TV references.) “Thank you,” Neil repeats. “Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wymack rolls his eyes. “Wait until practice. You won’t be thanking me then. Now get the hell out of my office, Josten. And see that you get the schedules from Renee.”

When Neil leaves, he’s grinning.

-

“Neil, I just received news from Coach that you’re on the team,” Kevin exclaims as soon as he enters the dorm. Neil looks up from his notes.

“How did you get in here?” he asks, rubbing sleepiness from his eyes. Despite it being only eleven in the morning, Neil is exhausted. He’s been studying for an hour or two already, and his lack of sleep recently due to Exy tryouts and homework is taking a toll.

“Key,” Kevin says, rolling his eyes like it should be obvious.

“How did  _ you _ get a key?  _ I _ don’t even have one, and I  _ live _ here,” Neil says, scrubbing a hand through his still-damp hair. His curly hair is thick and dries insanely slowly, even though he showered a little over two hours ago.

“I’m Kevin Day,” Kevin replies simply, placing a hand on his hip. Neil doesn’t bother asking for further explanation; it’s probably something properly ridiculous.

“Alrighty then.” Neil sets down his notes, because he knows Kevin will want to  _ do something, _ like go practice or watch a movie and not eat movie theater sweets.

“We’re going out,” Kevin announces, proving Neil’s theory correct.

“Where to, Captain?” Neil asks, already standing and pulling on his cheap canvas sneakers.

“We’re meeting with a friend of mine,” Kevin says. “He’ll hopefully he’ll give you a few Exy pointers. God knows you need them.”

“Thanks, Kevin, that makes me feel better,” Neil says, tone dripping with sarcasm. Sarcasm that Kevin doesn’t seem to catch, apparently.

“You’re welcome, I knew you’d start appreciating my efforts one day,” Kevin replies, presenting Neil with a gracious smile.

For a moment, Neil just stares at him in open mouthed awe. Then, Neil offers Kevin a word of obviously well-meaning criticism: “You are actually the stupidest person I have ever met.”

Neil’s attempt at sincerity is rewarded with a grimace from Kevin, followed by him turning on his heel and exiting the dorm room. When Neil follows a minute later, he’s grabbed his jacket.

The pair of them make their way to Kevin’s car, and as soon as they’re inside, Neil commandeers Kevin’s expensive smartphone, as well as the car’s auxiliary cord. “We’re listening to some good shit this time, not your weaselfuckery,” Neil informs Kevin, scrolling through YouTube. His main goal isn’t to listen to music he likes; he’s trying to find the songs that will piss Kevin off the most.

This isn’t solely because of the fact that Neil’s one purpose in life is to antagonize Kevin. It’s also due to the fact that the only stuff Neil’s heard and enjoyed is the lame eighties music Gabe Korman played in his cheap pickup driving Neil home junior year.

After a moment, a fantastic idea pops into Neil’s head. Luckily, when Neil types ‘Physical’ into the YouTube search bar, the remix shows up right below.

The opening notes course through the car, and Kevin looks utterly bemused for a moment, before the beat picks up. “Oh God,” Kevin groans. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this, too, now?”

Neil merely flashes Kevin an impish grin and sits back. Yes, playing the song means Neil will have to endure it as well, but it’s worth it to see the true pain on his friend’s features.

According to Kevin’s GPS, the ride is ten more minutes. Well, that means three whole more plays.

-

_ Hi, I’m doing good _

-

The coffee shop is deserted when Neil and Kevin arrive, which is sort of surprising. It looks like one of those hipster café joints where people with beards and circular glasses come to take pictures of their heart-shaped lattes.

Neil orders a plain black coffee, which Kevin nods at approvingly, before ordering himself a green tea, unsweetened. Kevin thinks everything is healthier when it’s unsweetened. Neil doesn’t know about that; he just forgoes the sugar because he doesn’t like it. The overpowering sweetness is too much for him.

After getting their drinks, the pair of them find a table near a window towards the back of the shop. Now that it’s around lunchtime, patrons are starting to file into the shop, but none of them are Kevin’s mysterious Exy mentor.

After twenty minutes, Neil is bored to death. “Hey, remind me again why this guy is so fucking late? Can’t we just, like, bail if he doesn’t show up in the next five minutes?” Neil asks.

He’s already finished his coffee, but he doesn’t want to order another one if he can hold out. Not only is this hipster coffee joint Instagram-ishly decorated, it’s also outrageously expected, as one would expect.

“Calm down, Neil, it’s not a big deal,” Kevin sighs. “This is just how Andrew is. He’s always late.”

Neil looks up slowly from his empty coffee mug. “Wait, did you say  _ Andrew?” _

“...Um, yeah? Why?” Kevin asks, looking half-curious, but mostly exasperated already.

“Pint-sized, blonde Andrew?” Neil asks. “With the goth aesthetic and constant death glare?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Kevin nods. Oh God, Neil is about to have to sit through a civil lunch with the heavy metal midget. “That’s the one. How did you know?”

“Well,  _ actually—” _ Neil begins, wringing his hands out, preparing to tell the entire lengthy tale, before Kevin stops him, holding up a finger.

“Wait,” Kevin says. “Is it something I wanna know?”

“Um,” Neil replies. Frankly, he’s not sure.

“Definitely not,” states a familiar, apathetic voice from behind Neil. He spins around immediately in the extra tall industrial stool he’s perched on, and almost loses his balance.

“Hey, Andrew,” Kevin says, giving Andrew a small wave. “Pull up a chair.”

Fixing Kevin with a glare, Andrew simply stands there, arms crossed. Once again, Neil takes in his black armbands.

“You’re gonna want to grab a chair, man,” Neil puts in. “Otherwise, you won’t be able to reach the table.”

Suffice it to say that the look Andrew gives Neil after that comment is decidedly  _ not amused. _

Neil decides to grin back at Andrew, which produces less of a reaction than the comment did. Andrew promptly turns on his heel and makes his way to the next spot in line for coffee. Neil turns to Kevin, who is shaking his head.

“You’re right,” Kevin says, his agonized voice evidence of just how exasperated he is in this moment. “I  _ really _ don’t want to know.”

Because Neil is the gentleman that he is, he slides off of his own too-tall stool and retrieves a second one from an empty table nearby, for Andrew. Plunking it between his and Kevin’s chairs, Neil returns to his own seat.

Kevin gives him a strange look which Neil has no idea how to interpret. He decides to just chalk it up to Kevin being weird and Kevin-y. Neil then proceeds to scope out the rest of the ship’s occupants, out of the paranoid habit his mother instilled in him during his life on the run.

Even now, when there’s no danger, Neil can’t help but keep on the lookout. It’s just the way he is, and at this point, he’s accepted it. Plus, this tic has actually helped him notice some funny instances. Like that one time he caught that man carrying a messenger bag filled with pigeons on the subway.

Neil notices a tall woman with bright pink and blue hair holding hands with a shorter lady, whose blonde hair was tied up in a prim mint bow. He sees a man with dark hair in a beanie and what is an impressive hipster beard, indeed. What catches his eye the most, though, is a middle-aged man with sandy blonde hair and a dopey smile on his face as he thanks the cashier.

Automatically, Neil is cataloging the fact that he seems to be much older than most of the shop’s patrons. He looks out of place in a navy button-down and salmon-colored pants. But the thing that Neil is fixated on is the sliver of something shiny and metal, tucked away in the man’s pocket.

Immediately, Neil’s gaze flicked to Kevin. “Kevin, that guy has something in his pocket—”

Kevin’s eyes widen at the distress practically tangible in Neil’s tone. “With what in his pocket? Who, Neil?”

Neil tries his best at a subtle nod in the direction of the man, who is smiling widely at a barista. Kevin looks past him and zeroes in on the guy immediately. Neil’s not the only one with razor-sharp instincts.

“What did you see?” Kevin asks, keeping the tone and pitch of his voice effortlessly light.

“Metal,” Neil replies.

Kevin flashes him a glare. “Metal doesn’t always mean—”

“I  _ know, _ I just, he—” Neil starts to explain. He’s cut off, though, when the man walks towards them.

He turns to Neil, taps him once on the shoulder, and says, “You alright there, Junior?”

And everything shudders to a stop. Neil is in his father’s basement, and a hot iron is pressing into his skin, burning it,  _ mutilating _ it. His own face is grinning above him, but the eyes are colder, icier. The smile is sharper, like the edges of a knife.

“Neil?  _ Neil, _ hello?” Kevin’s voice slices through the memory—it’s a  _ memory, _ Neil knows—but it’s too far away and echoey for Neil to really comprehend what Kevin wants.

Laughter cuts through Kevin’s words, shrill and high, the delighted crackle of Lola Malcom. A shudder wracks Neil’s body, and he sees Lola standing in front of him, caging him into a wall. There are sharp, but not sharp enough for a  _ quick _ death, knives clutched in her fingers, and they’re all that Neil can see.

“Is he okay?” an unfamiliar voice asks, and Kevin’s responds with a harsh, “Does it  _ look _ like he is?”

A hand closes around Neil’s shoulder, shakes him, and Neil flinches, jerking out of its grasp on instinct. Fingertips graze his shoulders again, like someone is trying a second time, but an ice-cold voice shuts them down.

“Don’t touch him.”

“Well, what the fuck  _ should _ I do?” Kevin’s irritated voice retorts. “I don’t know what to do about this shit.”

“Neil,” a voice says, flat and neutral. The floor comes into focus, though still hazy. Something is thumping, loud and fast, too fast, but Neil does not currently have the presence of mind to place it.

“Your name is Neil Josten,” the apathetic voice continues. “You are in Palmetto, South Carolina. You attend Palmetto State University. You are a mathematics major. You are a striker on the Exy team.”

With a shaky gasp, Neil looks up, and into the cold hazel eyes of Andrew Minyard.

“Give me two things that you see,” Andrew says, expression and tone uncaring. The lack of concern in Andrew’s disposition calms Neil, somehow.

“You. And, um, that chair,” Neil manages. His voice is rough and scratchy. Andrew nods once.

“Two things you hear.”

“Your voice. Cars, outside,” Neil says, his voice coming back to him slightly.

“Two things you feel,” Andrew replies, expression unchanging.

“The floor under my shoes. The air-conditioning,” Neil tells him. Only them does Neil feel the sweat on his neck and the rabbit-quick race of his pulse. He feels the tension leak, ever so slowly, out of his posture, and he slumps back against the stool behind him.

Andrew nods again, and sits down on his own stool. He picks up a cup of coffee, which is topped with about six different sugary things, and which Neil is  _ sure _ wasn’t there just before, and takes a sip.

With this profile view, Neil notices that he has an earring. A tiny black hoop in his left earlobe. Neil has seen earrings on guys, yeah, but not in a while that he noticed. It looks nice, fitting with Andrew’s all-black wardrobe.

“Are you okay?” Kevin asks from beside Andrew. Neil looks over and realizes that, yes, Kevin is still there.

“I’m fine,” he says immediately, and Kevin raises an eyebrow but lets it be.

Neil cranes his neck and finds the initial source of panic, the man in navy, through the shop window. He reaches into the pocket of his pants and removes—his keys.

Neil exhales, and even the releasing of breath sounds irritated. Andrew raises an eyebrow at him, too, and Neil just shakes his head. He wants to say thank you to Andrew, for helping him, but he doesn’t think he’d accept it.

“So anyway,” Kevin says, breaking the silence, “Neil is going to start joining me for night practice.”

“Whatever for?” Andrew asks. “Shouldn’t regular practices be sufficient for someone who is already a ‘champion’?”

Kevin flushes at the word choice, which makes Neil think that perhaps it’s a direct quote. That feels nice, like a compliment even if Kevin didn’t feel the need to tell him that to his face, and Neil smiles at Kevin, who glares back.

“Neil has only been on high school teams,” Kevin replies, crossing his arms. “The night practices are instrumental in making him into a player worthy of the Foxes.”

“You say that as if the Foxes are such amazing players,” Andrew snorts.

As the two of them launch into another argument wherein Kevin undoubtedly works himself into a bluster and Andrew infuriates him further by remaining nonchalant, Neil just watches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading & as usual i appreciate your comments & the like so much! sorry for the lack of updates lately; i’ve been sick & riddled with writers’ block.
> 
> also! you might maybe wanna check out my royal andreil au called prince charming?? maybe??
> 
> and lastly; if you wanna find me on tumblr & maybe perhaps give me a writing prompt or something i’m @/minyrds!


	9. 009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on the occasion that 2020’s just begun, i’ve blessed you all with cute andrew/neil AND renee/allison content!!! enjoy, my children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI!! once again, i’m unbetaed & very tired, so i’m sorry for any/all mistakes or unintentional divergences from both fic canon & actual canon!
> 
> content warnings: a panic attack! i don’t think there’s anything else, but if there is & i’ve forgotten it, please let me know!!

When Neil arrives at the dance studio, Allison is stretching on the barre, dressed in a hot pink crop top and black leggings. She is also somehow holding her equally pink smartphone, and seems to be watching a video of some kind.

“Hi,” Neil says.

“Hello to you, too, Josten,” Allison replies, offering Neil a smirk before bringing her attention back to her phone’s screen. He leans back against the mirrored wall of the studio. Allison and Renee invited him here to watch their routine, and Neil readily accepted, given that he has nothing to keep himself busy doing, other than annoy Kevin, practice Exy (which he tends to do most of the time), and study.

For a minute or two, Neil stands there, awkward and confused, before Allison clicks her phone a few times and places it on the floor next to her dance bag.

“Was just running through the routine,” Allison explains. “Is Renee here yet?”

“I think if she were here,” Neil says, rolling his eyes, “she would actually be in the room.”

Allison simply shrugs elegantly. “With Renee Walker, one never knows.”

That sounds vaguely ominous, but half the things Allison says are either ambiguously threatening or flirty-slash-sexual. Neil supposes all her statements are up for interpretation.

“Hey, c’mere, I saw this cat video…” Allison says, gesturing for Neil to come closer. He joins her by the barre, and Allison pulls up a video on her phone. They spend the next two minutes cooing at the cute ginger cat on her phone’s screen as it drinks cat-coffee and plays poker.

“That’s so cute,” Neil says when it’s finished. “That’s just so cute. I love cats.”

“They’re cute, right?” Allison says, smiling, seeming satisfied at having found something for the two of them to bond over. “Yeah, I’m more of a no-animals person, but Renee likes them. And I can admit that some of them are pretty damn adorable.”

Allison’s face is doing that thing that Neil has noticed it does whenever Renee is mentioned in conversation. It’s sort of sweet. Neil himself is utterly repressed, but how much the two girls care for each other is endearing at the very least.

Neil hasn’t yet worked out their relationship status—or gathered enough courage to ask about it—but he’s pretty sure they’re a little more than platonic. At least, given Allison’s drunken ramblings back in Columbia, and the way she always laughs extra loud at everything Renee says, and shows her physical affection.

The studio door swings open, suddenly, and in walks pastel-haired, pixie-like Renee Walker, a mint green ballet bag hanging off of her arm. She greets Allison and Neil each with warm smiles, and deposits her bag on the floor next to Allison’s.

“Hello, Neil, hi, Alli,” Renee says, giving them both a little finger-wave. Neil mentally adds that little nickname of Renee’s to his repertoire of reasons why the two of them might be dating. “How are you two?”

“Hi, Renee,” Allison replies, suddenly all sparkly. “I’m doing fabulously, as usual.”

“I’m fine,” Neil adds, raising his hand somewhat awkwardly. He still has yet to get rid of the overlay of lagging, out-of-place tension within him whenever he interacts with people that aren’t Kevin.

“That’s good to hear,” Renee replies, smiling like a saint as always. Neil notices that today she has star shaped earrings on, and he compliments them, to which Renee thanks him sweetly.

“Okay, are you ready, Renee?” Allison asks, clapping her hands. Renee nods and strips off her shiny purple coat, dropping it by her bag. Underneath, she is wearing gray sweatpants and a light pink top. Neil has noticed that she, Allison, and Andrew both tend to follow certain patterns when it comes to their outfits.

Allison moves to fiddle with her phone and the studio’s speakers which Renee stretches. There seem to be some technical difficulties, but soon enough, Allison joins Renee in the front of the studio. Some Ariana Grande (Kevin told Neil about all the hip artists) song starts blaring, and it’s got an edgy, dance sort of vibe.

Neil somehow can’t imagine either girl picking this song out for a routine, but he supposes that he’s only just met them. There must be a lot he doesn’t know.

The dance—the dance is just, whoa. Neil’s never seen anything like it before. Sure, he’s seen people dance, but not with coordinated, calculated, choreographed moves like these. Just the messy, chaotic dancing of drunk people at bars and clubs, to regular radio music, bathed in anonymous colored lights.

This is completely different.

Every move Renee makes, Allison mirrors, but  _ differently. _ There’s synchronization, but their moves aren’t uniform. They echo and compliment each other, but they don’t copy.

It’s mesmerizing, and Neil is shocked for the first minute. Allison’s blonde ponytail whips and her fingertips stretch to Renee before yanking out of reach. Renee contorts herself and weaves around Allison, then snaps back like a rubber band. It’s ridiculously intricate, and Neil is certainly impressed.

When they finish, both of them are out of breath. Allison is grinning in that purely  _ Allison _ way, wherein she smirks through it. “So?” she prompts, sinking down and grabbing her water bottle. “What do you think?”

Renee doesn’t ask, but smiles encouragingly as she extracts her own water from her bag.

“That was,” Neil begins, searching for the right words. “...It was  _ so cool. _ Like, so cool. I thought you guys only did Exy. That was insane.”

The girls’ smiles simultaneously widen. “Thank you, Neil,” Renee says. “That means a lot.”

“Hell fucking  _ yeah, _ you loved it!” Allison crows, her response contrary to Renee’s, but just as endearing.

Neil smiles back, more muted, but still happy, and Allison slings an arm around his shoulders. “So, what did you like best?”

“I don’t know, it was just… it was  _ cool. _ Like, okay, you were doing stuff the same, but differently? And Renee, your acrobatics were crazy. Allison, that thing you did where you almost touched her but then moved totally away? That was so cool,” Neil gushes. He has no idea why he’s suddenly allowing himself to express his excitement so easily, when it used to come as a challenge for everything outside of Exy.

“Yeah? Renee choreographed that,” Allison grins.

“Allison helped with much of the acro parts,” Renee adds, and Allison gives her a smile wider than the galaxy. Her eyes light up with such violent admiration that Neil almost feels like he should leave the room and give them some privacy.

“It was amazing,” Neil tells them sincerely. Allison gives him one last beam, and then claps her hands.

“So, lunch, anyone?”

-

Neil wakes up thrashing in his sheets, drenched in a cold sweat. When he opens his eyes, the ceiling of the dorm is too bright even in the middle of the night, but Neil doesn’t shut them again. It’s too soon. And he’s sure that if he closes them now, the images of his nightmares will be burned into his eyelids.

The sounds certainly remain. Neil doesn’t have to try to hear the screeching laughter of Lola Malcom, or the low, indulgent cadence of his father’s voice as he describes the steps to hiding a body.

Neil knows that, if he wanted to, he could conjure up the sharp, smoky scent of his mother’s remains smoldering away into ashes. Hear the sharp, whispered scoldings that were customary for her to give Neil whenever he gave into his own human nature.

What he does hear, however, is his own breathing, too fast, too shallow. And his heartbeat, rabbit-quick and deafening.

What Neil knows is this: he needs to calm down, and quick, before Renee wakes up. As he racks his brain for any idea, a fleeting image of blonde hair and dark eyes surfaces.

Neil zeroes in on it, bringing it into focus.  _ Andrew, _ another, more functional part of his brain supplies. It’s correct, of course. Andrew Minyard, the PSU Foxes’ goalkeeper, and his sharp gaze on Neil as he talked him down from his last panic attack.

Thankfully, it’s easy enough to remember what Andrew said.  _ “Give me two things you see,” _ Andrew had commanded him.

Neil gazes up at the ceiling and mentally lists:  _ the bumpy ceiling; the white walls. _

Next is what he hears.  _ My own breathing; my heartbeat, _ Neil thinks. Like a charm, his breathing is starting to slow. So it’s working.

_ “Two things you feel,” _ Andrew had said. Neil finds that his fingers are clenched in his sheets.  _ The sheets, _ he catalogues.  _ My pillow beneath my head. _

Neil’s breathing is  _ almost _ normal, now. It isn’t perfect, but it’s a start. Releasing his death grip on his poor sheets, Neil runs one hand through his hair, which is cold, damp, and sweaty from the nightmare.

Ignoring what time it must be, Neil slinks out of bed as quietly as he can, and pulls his sheet-turned-towel from beneath his bed. He tiptoes to the bathroom and turns on the shower, boiling hot.

Maybe the scorching water will help.

-

When Neil leaves the shower, he changes into yet another gray t-shirt, and sweatpants. Using the sheet (which dries horridly slow, being a bedsheet) to attempt to dry his hair, he stalks out of the bathroom.

Renee is sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone. Despite being in pajamas (pink hoodie and mint leggings; sticking to her theme), Renee’s cross hangs around her neck. Neil gets the idea that she’s a bit religious.

“Good morning, Neil.” Renee greets him with her customary smile.

“Hi, Renee,” he replies. He must’ve woken her up; it’s not even light out yet.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” Renee asks innocently.

“This hour?” Neil echoes. Renee holds up her phone screen. 4:23am. “Oh.”

“Yes,” she replies, tone kind as ever. “A bit early.”

“Uh, nightmare,” Neil admits. He’s slowly improving with telling the truth.

“I see,” Renee says, sympathetic. “Those plague me as well. Are you doing better now?”

“I’m fine,” Neil assures her.

Renee smiles. “That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah. Sorry if I woke you, by the way,” Neil adds, feeling sheepish.

“That’s alright, Neil,” says Renee, waving him off. “I wanted to get an early start anyway. Speaking of starting the day, Andrew’s going to be picking me up at seven. We’re going shopping. You’d said before that you wanted to get a few essentials. Care to join?”

“I—oh,” Neil says. “That would be great, actually.” He really  _ does _ need to get a few things, despite being short on funds. The real problem was a method of transportation, but this is a perfect solution.

The idea of seeing Andrew sticks again out to Neil for some reason, but he doesn’t think much of it. It makes sense that Neil’s consciousness is suddenly interested in Andrew; he’d helped him through not one, but too panic attacks already. Even if the second one’s help hadn’t necessarily been intentional.

“Perfect,” Renee grins. “I’ll go shower in a few minutes. Maybe after that, we can all go get breakfast? We’re both already up, after all.”

Neil nods. He doesn’t think he can manage trying to sleep again, at least not for awhile.

-

Andrew is wearing a color that is not black.

That’s the first thing Neil notices when the short blonde in question walks into his and Renee’s dorm. In fact, Neil’s eyes are so tightly glued to the muted yellow of Andrew’s shirt that he almost doesn’t notice the fact that Andrew didn’t need to knock to enter.

Tearing his eyes from Andrew’s top, Neil says, “You still have that fucking key, don’t you?”

Andrew’s cool gaze meets Neil’s. “What key.”

“The key to this  _ dorm, _ obviously,” Neil says, raw nerves from the nightmare instantly inflamed by Andrew’s presence. “How is it that you have one, but I don’t?”

“No idea,” Andrew replies, face as expressionless as ever.

Not knowing what to say to that, Neil just stares at him. This goes on for a full ten seconds before Andrew’s gaze wanders away from his in what Neil assumes is boredom.

“You’re wearing a color.” Neil shoves it out in the open. He doesn’t think his comment will do anything but irritate Andrew, or further convince him that Neil is moronic.

“Astute observation,” Andrew responds. Neil’s inference was, evidently, correct.

Neil takes Andrew’s confirmation as permission to look at his shirt some more. It’s a novelty, after all, to see him in a garment that’s not the color of the darkest depths of hell.

The shirt is cotton, probably, and a plain muted, mustard yellow. It’s loose enough that it’s not stretched taut over Andrew’s chest and stomach, which Neil inexplicably finds himself thinking of as a shame.

Since the top is short-sleeved, Andrew’s wearing his armbands. Neil has yet to ask about those, but that doesn’t stop him from observing them.

“Stop staring,” Andrew says blandly.

“Why yellow?” Neil asks, averting his gaze back to Andrew’s face. Dark eyes blink back at him, unimpressed.

“Why not.”

That’s a fair enough answer, Neil supposes. He shrugs, and nods toward the bathroom door.

“Renee’s in there,” he tells Andrew. “I’m pretty sure she’ll be out soon.”

Andrew simply looks back at him.

Neil shrugs and sits back on his bed, picking up his cell phone and checking his texts. Marissa’s texted him back. They’ve been texting back and forth a bit over the past few days. Neil types off a polite message asking what her plans are for today. Then, he realizes that that might come off as him fishing for a date, so he instead asks her how she’s doing.

“That’s a flip phone,” Andrew says. Neil looks up, and sees him leaning against the wall.

“It is,” Neil confirms. “Why?”

After a long moment, Andrew reaches into his pocket and retrieves… a cell phone that looks just like it.

“Oh,” Neil says. “Why did I think you’d have some super high-tech smartphone?”

Andrew merely lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

“Prob’ly because of your car,” Neil decides. “I mean, it’s got to have been really expensive, right? What do you do that you could afford it as a college student?”

After a moment, Andrew replies, “I work at Starbucks.”

Neil is pretty sure that, at that revelation, his eyes pop out of their sockets like a cartoon character’s.

“What’s the problem, Josten,” Andrew snarls. “I’d think a pretty boy like you would know all about Starbucks.”

Neil wrinkles his nose, taking ‘pretty boy’ as an insult. What else  _ would _ it be, coming from Andrew? “It’s not that I haven’t heard of it,” he says. “I just… I don’t see  _ you _ working there.”

“Why’s that.”

“Because. I don’t know. I guess I think of Starbucks as the place where giggly teenagers go and order coffee with a lot of whipped cream on top,” Neil says.

“Coffee is only good with whipped cream on top,” Andrew replies, wholly surprising Neil. Neil, who would’ve thought that Andrew drank coffee utterly black and referred to it as ‘the same color as his soul.’

“I don’t know,” Neil says, shrugging.

“What, don’t tell me you drink it black,” Andrew grimaces. That’s probably one of the very first times Neil’s seen him show emotion, he realizes.

“I mean… sometimes,” Neil says honestly, feeling affronted when Andrew looks even more scandalized. “I just don’t like sugary stuff.”

“Disgusting. Absolutely heathenous,” Andrew remarks.

“What’s heathenous?” Renee asks, emerging from the bathroom wearing jeans and a soft-looking sweater.

“Neil. He says he drinks coffee black because he ‘doesn’t like sugar.’”

“Hey, it’s just too sweet for me,” Neil interrupts, defending himself before Andrew writes him off as a criminal.

Andrew levels him with a glare, at which Renee rolls her eyes and smiles.

“Hold on a moment, I’ll just grab my coat,” Renee tells them.

“Oh, me too,” Neil replies, before grabbing his light denim jacket off the foot of his bed. It’s old, and it’s got silver studs on the collar. Neil bought it while he was still on the run. He’d found it at a thrift shop, and it was sort of a novelty to him; to buy something with even a touch of originality in it.

“That’s your jacket,” Andrew says, in that way of his where he didn’t ask questions, but state them.

“Yes,” Neil replies, wondering what mean things Andrew will have to say about his coat.

“It’s paper thin,” Andrew states.

“What? No, it’s not,” Neil says, suddenly defensive of his jacket. He’s starting to feel  _ very _ differently towards Andrew than he did when Andrew’s tactic helped him through his earlier panic attack.

“Yes, it is,” Andrew replies indignantly. “It’s denim.”

“It’s comfortable,” Neil argues back. Though, he won’t lie, it doesn’t do much against the chill during the winter. But it’s not like he has the money for a down jacket.

Andrew grabs the coat from Neil’s hands and turns it inside out. “Denim through,” he comments.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you’d freeze if you wore it out in the cold,” Andrew replies roughly, snark drenching his words and giving the statement, caring and motherly in content, a contradictory cadence.

“Well, I haven’t yet,” Neil says, snatching the jacket back and shrugging it on as Renee emerges from the bathroom.

“Neil, you haven’t seen my coat anywhere, have you?” she asks, pushing a lock of her pastel and white hair behind her ear.

“Um, isn’t that it on the back of your chair?” Neil asks.

Renee turns and makes a little, surprised noise. “Oh! Yes, thank you,” she says, grabbing the warm, mint green coat from her desk chair.

Andrew wordlessly jangles his car keys, reminding them to hurry up, and the three file out of Neil’s and Renee’s dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again!! thank you so much for reading, as always. also, happy new years!
> 
> a couple of chapter comments:
> 
> 1) i don’t know anything about dance, so i’m endlessly sorry about the lack of detail on allison’s and renee’s dance. (that bit contributes to later plot lines!) also, feel free to imagine it as whatever you want, but i like to think of the song they dance to as ‘everytime’ by ariana grande.
> 
> 2) next chapter, neil will hopefully (FINALLY) get some actual household items!! ofc he needed andrew & renee to remind him of the fact that he needed an actual fucking towel & coat.
> 
> 3) andrew working at starbucks finally came up! some more of that is coming soon.
> 
> 4) I’M SO SORRY about the lack of exy!! i hate to admit that i don’t fully comprehend the sport, but hopefully i’ll be able to get it a bit more & release some exy-related chapters soon.
> 
> lastly, i can be found on tumblr @/minyrds (changed my url!) if you wanna like??? talk to me??? idk???


	10. 010

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the author has returned! & with sexually frustrated and confused neil josten, no less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: a sort of aborted masturbation scene?? nothing explicit & it doesn’t actually get very far lmao

“Who knew there were so many different types of hair soap,” Neil says, gazing up at the rows and rows of toiletries in wonder. Andrew snorts from behind him.

“‘Hair soap’? It’s called fucking shampoo and conditioner,” Andrew replies, flexing his fingers around the handles of the shopping cart.

He seems extra annoyed with Neil today. Neil thinks that maybe it’s because Neil didn’t understand his reference earlier—Andrew had told Neil, in a high, nasal voice, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping,” and Neil had just looked at him, bemused.

“Did you like the lavender scented one, Neil?” asks Renee, tapping him on the shoulder. When Neil turns, she’s holding a light purple bottle, and—oh, yeah, it’s the one Neil borrowed from her on one of their first nights in the dorm.

“Yeah, that one was really good,” Neil tells her. Renee smiles.

“Should I put it in the cart?” she asks, tucking a few wayward locks of her pastel hair behind her ears. Neil notices that on one ear, she has three different piercings.

“Um, yeah, that’s great,” he says.

They’re at Walmart, buying Neil what he apparently should’ve had before school’s start.

“You’ve been living without fucking shampoo for two weeks?” Andrew asks, incredulous, from where he stands.

“I’ve been borrowing stuff from Renee,” Neil admits. “She has really good-smelling soaps.”

Andrew shakes his head, disbelieving. “At least you’re not one of those dumbasses who use three in one.”

“What’s that?” Neil asks, turning over a bottle of what is called a  _ cucumber hair mask. _ Andrew just sighs, clearly disappointed, and moves down the aisle.

Once Neil’s toiletries are accounted for (lavender shampoo, coconut conditioner, vanilla body soap), Andrew declares that its mandatory they find him some better clothing.

“My clothes are fine,” Neil argues. He likes his outfits just fine. So what if he only has two pairs of pants that aren’t coming apart at the seams?

“If ‘fine’ is the term you use to describe ‘a pile of flaming garbage’, then yes,” Andrew retorts blandly.

Neil looks to Renee for help, but she’s conveniently rifling through a display of wildly patterned hair ties and headbands.

“My clothes are  _ fine,” _ Neil insists, but Andrew ignores him.

Neil and Renee follow Andrew as he weaves through the aisles, and they find themselves watching as Andrew selects three gray towels from a rack.

“How did you know I didn’t have towels?” Neil asks, skeptical as he accepts the stack from Andrew.

“You had a sopping wet bed sheet drying over the back of your chair, moron,” Andrew replies. He looks like Neil’s very existence is personally offensive and vexing to him, which is probably true.

“Oh,” Neil says simply. “Well, the sheet worked well enough. I don’t really need towels.”

“We’re buying the fucking towels,” Andrew hisses in reply, crossing his arms over his chest. “What kind of idiotic shithead uses a fucking sheet as a towel?”

“Well, I didn’t  _ have _ actual towels,” Neil replies, feeling defensive.

“Neil, do you need socks?” Renee asks, nodding her head at a display of mens’ socks.

“Um, I’ll get a few pairs, I guess,” Neil says, feeling his face heat slightly. It’s still strange to be paid this much attention, even though the outing to Columbia was sort of helpful in getting him used to Renee’s group’s dynamic.

“There’s a sale,” Renee points out, pointing to a sign on the rack. “You might as well get some more.”

She’s right. Neil probably has enough to cover the toiletries, towels, and socks. Besides, it  _ is _ a sale, and if Neil’s mother taught him anything, it is that he should take the opportunities he is presented with, before they are all gone.

-

As the cashier rings up Neil’s items (Andrew had stared at him with disdain until Neil conceded to add two hoodies and a pair of pants to his cart), Neil shuffles through his wallet apprehensively, making sure he has enough to cover the purchases.

Andrew glares at him again, like Neil is doing something to antagonize him on purpose.

“What?” Neil asks.

Andrew simply pushes past Neil, leaving him with a searing stare. Before Neil can protest, Andrew has paid for his items and grabbed the shopping bags.

“Why’d you pay for my stuff?” Neil demands, annoyed. Renee is paying for her own items, a few paces behind them, and out of earshot. “I have money, you know.”

“You looked utterly pathetic, anxiously checking your cash to make sure you could afford staples of basic human life,” Andrew replies, tone having reverted back to his usual bored, flippant lilt.

“Still, it wasn’t you responsibility,” Neil grouses. “I wouldn’t have chosen those things if I didn’t think I could pay for them.”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’, Josten,” Andrew says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, right,” Neil sniffs. “Thanks.”

Andrew doesn’t dignify it with  _ ‘you’re welcome.’ _

“Hi, guys,” Renee says brightly as she approaches, transferring a shopping bag to her other arm to wave at them. “Are you ready to go?”

-

Neil’s Differential Equations notes are a mess.

Marissa notes this as she looks over his shoulder one morning, before the arrival of Professor Johnson.

“I mean, I guess,” Neil shrugs. “I just write down what I think is important. There’s no set design, or anything.”

“How can you study from them without a format?” Marissa asks, scandalized. Her brown eyes are wide as she motions to the graphing notebook on her desk, and the perfect notes adorning the paper. She has used a purple marker to write her heading, and she uses a complex pattern of bullet points, asterisks, little Post-its, and different colors of ink to take her notes.

“I just can,” Neil replies, unsure of why Marissa seems to shocked. “Besides, a lot of my studying is just from the textbook.”

“Crazy. That’s what you are, Neil Josten,” Marissa says, shaking her head. After a moment, her eyes light up. “I have a great idea.”

“Yeah?” Neil asks. He wants to listen to what Marissa is saying—she’s really nice—but his mind is elsewhere. He’s so fucking tired, having spent the better part of last night practicing with Kevin.

“Let’s study together! I can teach you how to take gorgeous notes,  _ my _ forte, and you can use your freaky-perfect math brain to explain what’s going on to me,” Marissa beams.

Neil considers her proposal. It’s actually not a bad idea. Neater notes could probably help Neil in the future, after all. And he could help Marissa out by explaining the material, which he understood easily enough, to her. It would be spending time with a friend (that’s what Marissa is, right?), which is supposed to be fun. From what Neil is told.

“Okay,” he finds himself saying, which just turns up Marissa’s megawatt smile times ten.

“Awesome,” she says. Professor Johnson enters and begins spewing something, so Marissa leans across her desk and whispers, “I’ll text you!”

_ Okay. _

-

Renee is out.

With Allison, probably. Renee was dressed up when she left, kept checking her phone with a smile. Which usually means  _ Allison. _

It’s late at night, too, and Neil is feeling keyed up and twitchy and restless. All day, there’s been a sort of tight, squirming, hot energy residing in his abdomen, and Neil doesn’t know what to do with it.

He isn’t sure if he wants it  _ out _ or what, but it’s been messing with him. The strange feeling’s keeping him from studying, and he doesn’t even have the option of trying to burn it away during practice, since the team doesn’t have one today, and Kevin’s busy with studying for some test.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of trying (and failing) to look at his Complex Variables notes, Neil shoves the textbook back onto his desk and face-plants into his mattress.

He groans into his lumpy pillow and wonders what the fuck is going on.

At this angle, Neil’s arm is crushed under his chest and stomach, with fingers crooked and pressing into his abdomen. Breathing out, he sits up and repeats the feeling, pressing his fist into his lower stomach.

It takes him a moment before he realizes what he’s doing, but by then, Neil does it again, lower down.

He exhales another sigh, shutting his eyes tight and trying to think about something that will help this process along.

Neil’s brain supplies a fact: most people would think about someone they find attractive, in this situation.

Neil mentally rifles through people that he knows. Renee? No, that would be weird for some reason Neil can’t pinpoint. Allison? She’s pretty, sure, Neil can recognize that aesthetically, but he doesn’t think that he feels  _ attraction _ when he thinks of her. Matt? He’s nice and all, and good-looking as anyone, but Neil doesn’t know him well. Marissa comes to mind. Neil considers, but he finds that the most he’d like to do with her is study Differential Equations. Kevin? No. Just, no.

Neil lets out a frustrated sigh and opens his eyes, blinking to adjust to the change in lighting. Why is this so hard for him? Can’t he be like other people, just pick a person, deem them ‘hot’, and go?

Eventually, Neil crosses his arms and abandons his previous task. As he sits, dejected, he absently recalls the events of the previous day; after practice, he’d grabbed a ride with Andrew to the dorms, since Renee had plans with Allison, Dan, and Thea. Neil and Andrew had talked a bit—their usual back and forth—in the empty parking lot. Andrew had passed Neil a cigarette, before Andrew had retreated to his room, deeming himself exasperated with Neil’s antics.

Neil’s brain seems to act like a broken record, replaying and replaying Andrew’s parting words.  _ “Goodbye, junkie.” _ Neil can visualize him, giving Neil an unimpressed look, with his armband-encased biceps crossed over his chest. Cigarette in hand.

For some reason, Neil feels the strange, twitchy warmth in his stomach reignite as he pictures Andrew. His skin feels more overheated and combustible the longer he sits and thinks of Renee’s tiny, irritable best friend.

Neil presses a hand to the side of his face and finds that his cheeks have grown flaming hot.

“What,” he says aloud, more than a little bit bewildered and worried about what his body is doing right now without his permission.

Still feeling restless, pent-up, and now inexplicably shameful, Neil gets up and pulls on his sneakers. Time for a run, it seems. At least until Neil’s brain and body stop being weird.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO SO SO SORRY for the lack of updates lately. honestly, there aren’t any excuses, but i have been preoccupied with my aftg big bang fic & just life in general.
> 
> this was a little bit of a filler, i hope you forgive me! i’m planning on having some more concrete chapters out soon :).
> 
> find me on tumblr @/minyrds


	11. 011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everyone is lgbtq, and we love marissa <3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings: a few fleeting instances of homophobia (specifically biphobia), neil’s nonexistent knowledge of different sexualities (?) & very brief mentions of alcohol & drunkenness

“Thanks so much again, Neil,” Marissa says, looping her arms around Neil’s neck to hug him quickly. “You made everything much simpler.”

“Anytime,” Neil replies, hugging back awkwardly. He hasn’t really gotten used to Marissa’s affinity for physical affection yet.

“I know who to call next time Diff Equations has me stumped,” Marissa grins brightly. She slips her phone out of her pocket, deletes the new notifications on her lock screen, and then says, “Hey, are you busy right now?”

“Um,” Neil says. “I don’t think so?”

“Awesome,” Marissa cheers brightly, and wow, Neil can really see why she’s a Vixen. “Would you maybe want to grab coffee with me?”

It’s Friday afternoon, and Neil and Marissa have just wrapped up their study session. Neil should probably get some homework for other classes finished up, but… Marissa’s offer  _ is _ a perfect excuse not to, isn’t it?

“Yeah, sure,” Neil replies, amicable. After all, Marissa’s been really nice to him so far. And it feels good to have a friend that he made by himself—one that wasn’t handed to him by Renee or Kevin.

“Ooh, great,” Marissa says, looking overjoyed. Her bubblegum-pink glossed lips stretch wide into a grin, matching the color of a barrette pinned in her brown curls.

Neil follows her out of the library, nodding as she chatters about cheer practice.

-

“So, is everyone on the exy team nice?” Marissa asks, sipping her iced latte. The cup reads  _ Melissa, _ a mistake that Marissa grumbled over previously. Apparently, the barista on the campus coffee shop has a habit of getting her name wrong.

“Um, yeah,” Neil shrugs. “Pretty much. One of my teammates is Renee, my roommate, who introduced me to everyone else. And I knew Kevin before I came to PSU.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Marissa says, nodding. “It’s good to know someone beforehand. Wait, so Aaron Minyard is on your team, right?”

Neil nods, wondering why Marissa would know Aaron. “Yeah, he is. He’s actually not my biggest fan. Neither is his brother.”

“Oh my god, his brother, Andrew,” Marissa says, wide-eyed as she shakes her head. “Isn’t he, like, crazy?”

“He’s a little… hardcore, I guess,” Neil shrugs. “Why? What’s all the interest with the Minyards?”

“Okay, so, my friend Katelyn—from the cheer squad, actually—started dating Aaron a few months back, and Andrew literally flipped his shit,” Marissa confesses. “He, like, threatened her with knives and told her to back off or he’d kill her.”

_ “Really?” _ Neil asks, genuinely surprised. That sounds like a bit of an overreaction, even for Andrew. Neil also doesn’t think he can picture Andrew doing it. He tells this to Marissa.

“For real?” Marissa asks. “Everyone tells me he’s crazy. And I believe Katelyn—she’s really honest and trustworthy. I should know, she and I used to date.”

“Oh, you did?” Neil pauses momentarily to digest the information.

“Yeah,” Marissa says. Her expression has changed, and she looks cautious. “We’re both bi. You don’t, like… have a problem with that, do you?”

“No, no, of course not,” Neil assures her, horrified that Marissa would even think that. “That’s totally cool with me.” Of course it is; Kevin is bisexual, too. Neil, albeit begrudgingly, loves Kevin. Therefore, he loves bisexuals by proxy.

“Oh, okay,” Marissa says, the nervousness on her face quickly dissipating in favor of an expression of cheerful relief. “Cool. Just, like, some people are… not great about it. An old boyfriend of mine actually dumped me over it. Called me all of these slurs. It wasn’t good.”

Neil feels a wave of sympathy for Marissa. “That’s terrible,” he replies, genuinely sorry to hear it. “I, uh… I guess I can’t imagine that.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m okay now,” she assures him. Then, “You’re straight?” Marissa asks conversationally.

“Um, not exactly,” Neil admits. “I’m more of… nothing, I guess. I’m not gay. At least, I don’t think I am. And I don’t like girls  _ that way. _ I don’t really know what I am. I just don’t swing.”

“Oh,” Marissa nods as she digests that. “Have you ever tried researching it?”

“No,” Neil replies. “I guess I never had time to. My life has been… pretty, uh, hectic, up until now.”

“Well, I might have some stuff that could help you out,” Marissa suggests. “You know, put a label on it, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Thanks,” Neil tells her. “That would be great.”

“You’re welcome,” Marissa grins, flicking Neil’s cup of iced black coffee. “I guess it’ll be my duty to be a fantastic friend to you, now that I know you’re not amicable to dating.”

“Oh,” Neil says, eyes widening as he realizes. “Was this a…?” He gestures flimsily between them.

Marissa smiles, rolling her eyes. “It was supposed to be. I mean, it’s not every day you meet a cute, smart redhead in your math class, right?”

Neil blushes, and that makes Marissa smile even wider. “Don’t worry about it, Neil J. I’ve survived worse. Like that time my eleventh grade boyfriend turned out to be screwing my cousin. Did I tell you about that one yet? No? Oh my god, so…”

-

Three hours later, Neil is in Nicky’s and Aaron’s dorm room, arms overflowing with black clothing.

“Really, don’t you think this is a little bit excessive?” Neil asks, awkwardly balancing the tipping stack.

Nicky emphatically shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I agree with Andrew. Your outfits are nothing short of atrocious, and what you wore to Eden’s last week? Humiliating. Now, Andrew picked these ’fits out, and he gave them to us to give to you. You can try them on in the bathroom. Pick whichever one you like.”

“Fine,” Neil groans. Of course this is Andrew’s doing. He can never resist a chance to make Neil look like a fool, it seems.

“Don’t mix and match! Explicit instructions from Andrew!” Nicky calls as Neil finds his way into their bathroom.

It’s almost identical to Renee’s and Neil’s, merely lacking the wonderfully scented toiletries and cute little trinkets that Renee decorated with. Neil sets the pile down on the toilet, locks the door, and gets to work.

The first outfit is nothing short of outrageous. It’s so insane that Neil doesn’t even bother trying it on. A sheer black shirt with silver thread on the sleeves and hem, with tight black pants. The metallic theme continues on the slacks, flaunting tiny silver pinstripes up and down each leg.

Neil can’t bear to think about how the sheer shirt will show off his scars, so he skips right over that one.

Next is a black t-shirt that Neil can tell will be fitted over his chest, which is at least better than the see-through shirt. And a pair of ripped black skinny jeans. Neil, a hater of skinny jeans, grumbles to himself when he picks them up. However, an interesting quirk of the jeans is that, when Neil wrestles them on and rolls up the slightly too-long cuffs, the underside is speckled with tiny white stars.

Without even looking at the last outfit, Neil pulls the t-shirt on and completes the look. He leaves the bathroom and dumps the discarded pile on Nicky’s bed.

When Nicky looks up from his phone, he rewards Neil with an approving once-over for his trouble. “Damn, Neil, you clean up nice,” Nicky remarks. “I’ve underestimated Andrew.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Neil sighs, reaching for his sneakers.

“No, wait, Andrew left you shoes, too,” Nicky cuts in. When Neil sees the monstrosities of shiny black combat boots Nicky is pointing to, his jaw drops.

“You  _ have _ to be kidding me,” Neil groans. Nicky simply grins.

“Nope. And, hey, there’s a heel. You’ll be slightly less of a midget!”

_ Jesus Christ. _

-

When Neil hops into Andrew’s car (he’s been informed by Matt that getting to ride in  _ The Maserati _ is a fantastic honor), Andrew spares him a single look over the center console.

Neil chooses to interpret the slight narrowing of Andrew’s eyes as approval rather than what it clearly is: disdain. He also chooses to not be vaguely offended when Andrew looks away from him and proceeds to ignore him.

Tonight, Kevin has opted to join the rest of the Foxes on the Columbia trip, as he hadn’t in the single previous trip. Therefore, Neil had been assuming that his spot would be downgraded to the backseat between Aaron and Nicky.

Strangely enough, when Kevin attempted to open the driver’s side door and climb in, Andrew leveled him with a flat stare and shook his head.

Neil’s not complaining, though—he certainly doesn’t want to be in the midst of some argument Nicky and Aaron are having in the backseat.

“I’m just  _ saying, _ when guys come out as bi in high school, a lot of the time, they’re actually gay and trying to feel slightly more normal,” Nicky hedges.

“That’s bullshit,” Aaron replies hotly. “It’s just as difficult to be bisexual. Honestly, it can probably be worse, because of what you’re saying right now.”

“What are you  _ talking _ about?”

“You’re being biphobic! You’re saying that bis are half-straight,” Aaron shoots back.

“Because they  _ are,” _ Nicky says, looking genuinely confused.

“Can you stop? As a bisexual, I’m offended by this conversation topic,” Kevin complains.

“Shut up, Kevin, you’re not the only bisexual in the world,” Aaron rolls his eyes.

“You’re not  _ bisexual,” _ Kevin accuses. “You’re biromantic. And that’s different.”

“That’s acephobic,” Aaron snarls.

Neil shakes his head and tunes out the conversation. He doesn’t have an opinion on bisexuality, not being bi himself. Reflecting on it, Neil supposes that he’s supportive of bisexual people. Why would he not be? Kevin—and now Marissa, too—are bi, and Neil supports them.

Thinking of Marissa reminds Neil of what she told him about Aaron, Andrew, and her ex-girlfriend Katelyn. In the rearview mirror, Neil sends a distracted Aaron an appraising glance.

He wonders if Aaron is the type of person to have a cheerleader girlfriend. Then, Neil remembers the fact that he doesn’t know all that much about Aaron. Until now, Neil didn’t even know that Aaron was bi. Biromantic?

Neil makes a mental note to research what that means, since he’s not familiar with the term. He knows about being gay, being straight, being bisexual, but not much about the in-between. That’s probably a side effect of his life on the run—Neil didn’t exactly have time to learn about different sexualities.

“What are you stewing about.” A dry voice rouses Neil from his internal monologue. When Neil looks up, Andrew’s eyes are focused on the road ahead.

“Nothing,” Neil replies. “Finally decided to talk to me?”

“Talk? More like save,” Andrew says. “I rescued you from that cesspool you call your consciousness.”

“Fair,” Neil allows. “Remember when we played the truth-for-truth game?”

Neil chooses to take Andrew’s silence as confirmation. “Yeah? Well, I want to play another round. Why have you been ignoring me?”

“What are you talking about,” Andrew grouses. It’s an obvious attempt at stalling, but Neil won’t let Andrew take that out.

“You haven’t looked at me once this entire trip,” Neil scoffs. “Am I really that hideous?”

Andrew grits his teeth, and Neil can tell he’s gotten under Andrew’s skin. That makes him want to grin, and he blames it on his usual antagonism. For some reason, seeing Andrew’s unbothered facade crack ever-so-slightly due to Neil’s pestering sends a thrill down Neil’s spine.

“Don’t worry, you won’t offend me,” Neil grins cheekily. “I already hear every insult known to man on the regular from Kevin.”

“Kevin doesn’t know shit,” Andrew huffs.

Neil feigns shock. “Holy shit, Andrew,” Neil gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “Are you… are you  _ actually _ sticking up for me?”

Andrew snorts, another rare show of human emotion that makes Neil’s chest glow warm. “Don’t test me, Josten,” Andrew warns, but the low melody of his voice is tinged with the faintest hint of amusement.

The heat grows brighter and sends blood rushing to Neil’s cheeks, but then memories of Neil’s stint with almost-masturbation flood his consciousness. He unerringly recalls the stark image of Andrew’s face in his mind, and that is enough to throw a bucket of icy water over the moment.

Neil quickly glances over at Andrew, irrationally worried that Andrew somehow suspects what Neil is thinking about. Again, Andrew’s eyes are glued to the road. Neil sighs and turns towards the window, trying his best to bury the inexplicable guilt inside of him, as well as the curiosity at  _ why the fuck was I thinking of Andrew? _

They lapse back into silence, even as the passengers in the back prattle on, unaware of anything other than their squabbling.

Neil wonders if the discomfort and awkwardness he feels is tangible for Andrew, too, or if he’s just blowing things out of proportion.

Sighing once more, a tiny release of breath, Neil focuses his gaze on street lamps whizzing by. He elects to ignore all the strangeness for now.

The rest of the night passes by in stony silence from both Andrew and Neil. Nicky, Aaron and Kevin don’t seem to notice, content to partake in their alcohol and partying in each other’s company, and used to Neil’s and Andrew’s abstinence.

When Neil takes his respective place on the floor of Nicky’s room at the Columbia house, he definitely doesn’t wonder if Andrew’s still awake in his room. He most certainly doesn’t once again picture Andrew’s molten hazel eyes and fluffy blonde hair as he drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! once again, thanks for reading this spotty, messily written lump of garbage. i really do appreciate y’all’s comments, etc., even if i’m the absolute worst at replying.
> 
> again, i am SO SO SORRY about the lack of updates (at least frequent/coordinated updates). i’ll try to get better at that!
> 
> finally, you can find me on tumblr @/minyrds


End file.
